


Chasing Ghosts On A Dare (And Other Supernatural Misadventures)

by DarthAbby, TheBookwormBakery



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: AH ghost hunter AU, Gen, I hope you're having a nice day, I'm not sure what else should be put here, Ray and Michael transcended brohood a long time ago, Supernatural Elements, so how are you doing?, there's just supernatural shenanigans everywhere, will add relationships and characters as they show up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 01:30:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4727657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthAbby/pseuds/DarthAbby, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBookwormBakery/pseuds/TheBookwormBakery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an encounter with a ghost and a meeting in a bar, six guys from Austin decide to meddle in the supernatural.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lights, Camera, Too Much Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the gang (mostly) comes together. Nothing like almost dying to make a few friends!

Gavin had never been superstitious, but even he had to admit something weird was going on. He knew the movie studio he was working on was a bit run down, but he had been there two weeks and six people had already been almost killed by falling props or exploding lights. One of the makeup artists had even gotten locked in the warehouse, and later she had described hearing a voice.

"It was more like a whisper," she had said. "And I could feel hot breath on the back of my neck."

"What did it say?" one of the extras asked.

She shrugged. "That's the weird part. I couldn't make out any words, and when I turned around to look, there was no one there."

After that, rumors had begun to spread of a ghost haunting the set. Gavin shrugged these off, much like he had shrugged off the old soda can thrown at his head on his second day. No one had owned up to it, and he _was_ relatively new, having replaced a camera operator who had gotten sick. It was probably some dumb kind of hazing.

He glanced uneasily up from reviewing his footage at the heavy bags hanging from the rafters. If one of them fell on someone...

"Hey, Gavin." The director, Raven, was standing just behind him. "I called an electrician today to take a look at all our lighting issues, since it's been getting pretty bad. You normally stay here pretty late, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Would you mind hanging out to let the electrician in?" she asked.

"Yeah, shouldn't be a problem."

"Thanks, it means a lot." She started to walk off, and then turned around. "Stay alert, okay? I'd hate to lose more people to... whatever's happening."

"I will."

"See you tomorrow, then." Raven started chasing after an actor who had walked in with a bottle of whiskey. "Connor, no alcohol on the set!"

Within a few hours, the set was empty and eerily quiet. No one really wanted to stay after sundown anymore. He couldn't really blame them; empty sets could be seriously creepy.

A creak up in the rafters made him jump. One of the bags was spinning, ever so slowly. _Just the wind,_ he told himself. Still, he sidled over to the crowbar left on one of the tables and picked it up. Maybe someone had broken into the studio and had been sabotaging the equipment.

He waited with bated breath, straining to hear any other sounds that would point to an intruder. When he heard nothing, insistent fears started crowding into his mind.

 _I'm a bloody idiot,_ he thought. _I should've just gone home._

He looked around the room, wondering if maybe the intruder—he didn't want to think "ghost"—had snuck around behind him. Nothing looked out of... the table. The table had moved a foot to the left.

A breathy laugh echoed from behind him, and he whirled around. "Who's there?" he demanded. There was no response, and nothing moved in the shadows. Gavin turned on another light, wondering when the room had gotten so dark.

The lightbulb burst, sending out a storm of sparks; Gavin jumped away with a yelp. He landed at the foot of a curtain, which somehow ended up tangled around his ankle as he tried to move away.

Gavin picked up his backpack. He was getting out of there, and the electrician could stuff it.

He pushed at the door and found it had gotten stuck. Damn it, Ricardo had just fixed that door! He pushed harder, and thought he felt it budge. He turned around to retrieve the crowbar and yelped again as the bag that was spinning earlier crashed to the ground. He threw his entire weight onto the door, and it flew open. Gavin stumbled into the night, panting, and heard something crash into the door as it closed.

"Bloody hell," he whispered.

"The fuck happened to you?"

Gavin shrieked.

"You need to chill the fuck out," the other person said. He had short curly hair and tattoos, and was looking at Gavin like he was crazy.

"Are..." Gavin swallowed. "Are you the electrician?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, I'm an axe murderer with a tool belt. Yes, I'm the electrician."

"Oh."

They stood there, Gavin leaning against the door and the electrician staring at him, for a few minutes.

"Are you gonna let me in?" he asked.

"Right. Yeah." Gavin pulled the door handle, half hoping it wouldn't open. Of course, it opened easily, almost on its own. A large, heavy-looking wrench lay on the floor a few feet away. Was that what had hit the door?

"What kind of movie are you filming here?"

"Murder mystery," Gavin replied. "Also kind of a comedy, though."

"Oh, cool, like Clue." The electrician wandered over to the busted light. "What happened with this?"

"Dunno. I went to turn it on just now and it blasted sparks everywhere."

"It looks brand new."

"Maybe it's really cheap or something." Gavin shuffled his feet uncomfortably, reluctant to move away from the door. "I'm Gavin, in case you, er... wanted to know."

"Michael."

Gavin pulled a bag of pretzels out of his backpack and began eating as Michael moved over to the wall switch and began unscrewing the metal plate covering it. As he was poking around in the wires, he suddenly stopped. "Hey, quit breathing down my neck," he snapped.

"I'm nowhere near you!" Gavin protested.

"But..." Michael trailed off and turned around to look at him.

"There's no one else here." Gavin looked at the ceiling, but there wasn't even a vent to blow hot air down onto Michael. It was getting harder to refuse to believe there might be a ghost.

Michael shrugged and screwed the plate back onto the wall. "There's nothing wrong here, at least. The chick who called said the lights had been acting up for a few weeks?"

"Yeah, pretty much since shooting started there's been weird stuff going on."

"Have you considered calling a priest?"

"There's not a damn ghost!"

Michael raised an eyebrow as another chorus of creaks started up. "Sure as hell sounds like there is."

"Everyone's so damn superstitious," Gavin grumbled.

"Okay, Grouchy McSkeptic, what do _you_ think is going on?"

"I dunno! Maybe someone's getting in and sabotaging the equipment."

"Yeah, maybe. Can I go take a look at the rest of the lights?"

"Yeah, the main set's just over there." Gavin led Michael through the studio, his eyes fixed on the rafters in case something else was getting ready to fall.

"You're pretty jumpy for someone who doesn't believe in ghosts."

"It's creepy at night when you're alone here," Gavin said. "I was here for _hours_ before you showed up."

"You know, if there is a ghost, it's going to be pretty upset that you don't believe in it."

“Shut up.”

The lights flickered, and Gavin squeaked. Michael looked over at him. “Seriously?”

“What?”

“The lights flickered once, and you jumped like, a foot in the air. Lights like these flicker all the time.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to follow me around either, nothing’s stopping you from just going  
home,” Michael said, unscrewing another wall plate.

“Well, I…” _I don’t want to leave you with the… with whatever’s going on._ “I could let you know if something starts to fall on you.”

Michael squinted at him. After a long moment full of tension that Gavin was probably just imagining, he shrugged. “Okay.”

“Really?”

“I mean, I can’t make you leave. Just quit making weird noises.”

Gavin watched nervously as Michael made his way around the set, pulling metal plates from the walls to examine the wires behind them. Each time, Gavin held his breath, waiting for something to explode or fall onto Michael’s head, and he let it out shakily when nothing happened. And with each set of wires Michael checked, Gavin grew more certain that the lights themselves were perfectly fine.

“Is this where most of the problems were?” Michael asked as he screwed the last plate back into the wall.

“Yeah, it’s all mostly concentrated around the set.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. Nothing’s out of the ordinary, so unless it’s something to do with the building’s power supply there’s not much else I can think of to do.”

Gavin glanced up into the rafters again. He didn’t really expect to see anything different from the last time he had looked a minute ago, but—

“Michael!”

Gavin leapt forward, catching Michael around the waist and tackling him to the ground. One of the stage lights plummeted to the floor and shattered where Michael had been standing seconds before.

“Holy shit,” Michael whispered. Then he pushed at Gavin, whose elbows were digging into his stomach. “Get the fuck off me.”

As Gavin stood up, the lights flickered again and went out, plunging the two of them into darkness.

“You still sure there’s no ghost?” Michael asked.

“No.”

“Let’s get the fuck outta here before it kills us.”

“Good plan.”

The ghost light— _oh, how ironic,_ Gavin thought—had stayed lit, painting the set in a dim, eerie red light. It made everything about ten times scarier, but he and Michael could at least see where they were walking.

For a second, Gavin was hopeful they might actually get out; of course, then the door slammed in his face with a rush of icy air. “Shit!”

“Is there another way out of here?”

“There’s other doors, if the ghost hasn’t locked— _duck!_ ”

They ducked as a prop axe was hurled at their heads. It wedged itself in the door with a thud.

“I told you it was mad you didn’t believe in it!”

“That is so not the reason it’s flipping out!”

“You’re the damn skeptic!”

“I’m not a bloody skeptic now!”

“That doesn’t do us a whole lot of good, though, does it?”

They ducked again as a meat cleaver joined the axe.

Gavin ran across the set and pulled at another side door. It was locked, as was the next one he checked. The ghost kept throwing sharp things at him, which was totally unfair. He ran into Michael again at the last set of doors to be checked, which were also locked.

“Do you think if I apologize it’ll stop trying to kill us?” he asked.

“I doubt it, but it’s worth a shot,” Michael panted. He was holding a sheet of plywood, which already had two or three knives from the studio’s kitchen embedded in it.

“OI!” Gavin yelled. “I’M SORRY FOR NOT THINKING YOU WERE REAL! CAN YOU PLEASE STOP TRYING TO STAB US NOW?”

The ghost’s response was a ludicrously sized claymore to the plywood board.

“FUCK YOU THEN!” Michael yelled. “Here, hold this, I need to make a call.”

“Who do you even need to call!?” Gavin asked, taking the plywood.

Michael dialed a number and waited as the other end rang, drumming his fingers on his thigh impatiently. “Come on, pick up, fucking pick up you piece of shit—Ray!”

“Do you even know what time it is.” Gavin could just barely pick out the voice on the other end.

“Shut the fuck up, you go to bed regularly at four AM.”

“Fair point. What do you need, and why do you sound like you’re about to shit your pants.”

“I need you to look up how to get rid of a ghost.”

“Okay, what.”

“There is a pissed-off ghost hurling increasingly larger blades at my head in some old movie studio and my only defense is a fucking plywood board and some British fuck with a big nose!”

“My nose is not that big!” Gavin protested.

“Yes it is, now shut the fuck up.”

“Okay there’s a whole lot of results that are mostly just bullshit, can you specify what kind of ghost or…”

“I don’t know, I’m kind of busy trying not to fucking die here!”

“You are so not helping me help you right now.”

Another giant sword speared through the board, making Gavin yelp.

“Look, I’m not a paranormal expert, okay?! It’s throwing shit and turning off lights and locking doors.”

“Oh, it’s a poltergeist.”

“Gesundheit,” Gavin said.

“Is that the British fuck?” Ray asked. “Can you put me on speaker?”

“Yeah, sure.” Michael took the phone away from his ear and pressed the speaker button.

“Okay so, apparently ghosts hate salt and burning sage, do you have any of that over there?”

“There’s salt in the kitchen,” Gavin said.

“That would be great if the doors weren’t locked shut,” Michael snapped.

“What about sage?”

“I dunno, I doubt it.”

“Ray, how fast can you get to Winchester Studios with that stuff?” Michael asked.

“Maybe half an hour? Are you seriously asking me to bail your ass out, because that’s what it sounds like.”

“Any other bright ideas, asshole?”

“Nah, I’ll be there. Try not to die. Oh, hang on, is there some kind of weird carving or creepy doll or, like, a picture? The ghost might have latched onto anything old like that apparently.”

“Yeah, one of the actors brought a ouija board with her when filming started!” Gavin said.

“Do we destroy it or something?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, hopefully that’ll get rid of it. I’m coming anyway in case it doesn’t work, but find that thing and fuck it up.”

“See you in half an hour.” Michael hung up. “So where’s that ouija board?”

“In here somewhere, I think.”

Another sword made an appearance in the board, coming dangerously close to Gavin’s face.

“I’ll cover you, try to find it,” Michael said, taking the plywood back.

Gavin ran over to the living room set and dug around in the couch cushions. “I saw it my first day here,” he called. “A bunch of girls were huddled around it trying to talk to it.”

“That’s so fucking dumb!” Michael called back. “Did they not see any horror movies that could have told them how awful of an idea that is?”

“Guess not!” Gavin pressed his cheek to the floor to look under the couch. “It’s not bloody here!”

“This board’s starting to look too much like a pincushion for my liking! Where else did you see it?”

“Oh, I’m an idiot!”

“Shocker.”

“It was in the bedroom set!”

Gavin ducked the blades thrown at him as he ran across the set, and he started ripping sheets off the bed. “Help me look!”

“I’m a little busy being a fucking shield!” Michael yelled. A scimitar buried itself in the plywood.

“How long has it been then?”

“Ten minutes, maybe?”

“I FOUND IT—oh, bollocks!” Gavin had lifted up the uncovered ouija board triumphantly, only for it to be ripped out of his hands by another gust of wind and blown up into the rafters, where it balanced itself neatly on a steel beam.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Michael groaned.

The bed suddenly jerked upward, carrying Gavin up with it. Within seconds, it was more than five feet off the ground. “MICHAEL!” Gavin screamed.

“What the fuck do you want me to do about that?!”

“SOMETHING!”

The bed continued to rise, gaining speed as the ceiling grew ever closer. A few more seconds and Gavin would be crushed.

“Jump off!” Michael yelled.

“WHAT?!”

“Jump off the damn bed or you’re going to be a stupid British pancake!”

Gavin peered over the edge of the bed before jumping off, reaching for the ouija board as he fell. His fingertips brushed the edge, flipping it up into the air. He hit the ground hard, the ouija board clattering to the ground a few feet away. Moments later, the bed crashed down inches away from Gavin’s arm, and an ear-piercing shriek that didn’t come from Gavin echoed through the room.

Michael ran forward and grabbed the board, breaking it over his knee. Instead of disappearing, the poltergeist seemed to grow angrier and the shrieking became louder. “Do we need to burn this fucking thing!?”

“Maybe!” Gavin lifted the plywood board just in time for a spear—the poltergeist had run out of swords—to ram into it.

“Do you have a lighter?”

“Nope!”

A hammer smashed into the plywood, breaking it in half. Michael picked up the hammer and threw it back with a primal yell. “Get another sheet of wood!”

Gavin scrambled across the set, found a solid-looking sheet of plywood, and scurried back to Michael. “Now what?” he asked.

“We hold off this asshole until Ray gets here.”

The poltergeist seemed to have run out of things to throw, which seemed odd to Gavin. Why wasn’t it reusing weapons it had already thrown at them? He peeked around the edge of the plywood, ready to duck back again if sharp things flew at his head, but nothing did. “I think it’s got a range,” he said.

“What?”

“Look, it can’t get to us here, and it can’t pick up all the stuff it jammed into the board.”

Michael peeked around the other side of the plywood. “Huh.” He raised his voice. “What’s the matter, dickwad? Can’t get to us?”

“Michael!”

“What? Like you said, it can’t—oh shit!” Michael ducked back behind the plywood as the poltergeist chucked a vase at his head.

The door in the wall behind Gavin opened. “Yo, Michael, are you still alive in here?”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Michael muttered. “About time! Get over here!”

Ray entered the studio with a plastic bag, and ducked a folding chair that the poltergeist threw at him. He ran over to Gavin and Michael and dove behind the board. Sitting up shakily, he pressed himself up against Michael. “Holy shit, you weren’t kidding about it throwing things.” He looked like a scrawny teenager with his slightly-too-big purple hoodie and frankly, Gavin wasn’t impressed.

“I try not to kid about ghosts trying to kill me,” Michael retorted.

“Yeah, well, you’ve been known to exaggerate,” Ray said. “Anyway, I got some salt, I think this is sage, and I got a lighter to blaze it up. How’d the ouija board thing go?”

“We broke it in half, but that just made it mad,” Gavin said. “Well, more mad than it already was.”

“Where is it?”

Gavin gestured loosely toward the remains of the bedroom set. “Over there somewhere.”

Ray crept out slowly from behind the board, only to make a hasty retreat as the poltergeist threw another chair. “Nope, fuck that, I’m staying behind the board where it’s safe.”

“I’m surrounded by pussies,” Michael grumbled. He made a dash for the broken ouija board, scooped it up, and dodged the flying furniture on the way back to the plywood shelter. “Let’s light this fucker up.”

Ray pulled out the lighter and flicked it on. He held the flame to the ouija board until it caught fire.

It was then that the three of them discovered just how slowly processed wood burned.

As they sat there watching the wood blacken, the shrieking from the poltergeist returned with a vengeance, growing more and more high-pitched as the wood was consumed by flames.

“Does anyone know any campfire songs?” Ray asked.

Gavin straightened, looking excited.

“If you sing, I will punch you in the balls,” Michael threatened.

Gavin deflated.

“Here, light up the other piece so we can be done faster,” Michael said, holding up the second half of the ouija board.

Ray pulled out the lighter again, and the wood joined its other half on the floor. He then lit the other corners of both pieces for good measure.

Gavin had dozed off by the time the wood finally finished burning, and he jolted awake when Michael’s foot slammed onto the charred wood, breaking it into pieces. “Is that it?” he asked. “Is it gone?”

“I think so,” Ray said. “It’s not throwing anything. I’m looking up a cleansing thing though.”

“Good fucking riddance,” Michael said, stomping on the other piece of the board.

Ray lit a sprig of the herb he had said was probably sage, and began walking around the room to spread the smoke.

“What are you doing?” Gavin asked.

“It’s some kind of Native American purification ritual. Supposed to clear out negative energies, I think?”

“Oh, cool.”

“I don’t know about you, but I need a fucking drink after that,” Michael said.

“Yeah,” Gavin agreed. “There’s a bar kind of close to here that should still be open. It’s called The Bearded Banshee or something.”

“Ray? You want to come with?”

“Sure, just a sec, I need to finish this thing.” Ray sped up, powerwalking around the set with a trail of smoke extending behind him. Still, the set was big enough that it took a few minutes for him to finish. He shook what was left of the sprig of probably-sage until it stopped smoking and dropped it onto the floor. “Okay, I’m ready.”

The three of them left the ransacked set and the smoldering remains of the ouija board, and set out into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I picked probably the worst time to post this, since school has just started and I'm going to get murdered by homework.... still, it was done and according to Tumblr it's Halloween, so this is the perfect time to post it! It's an interesting paradox, really.
> 
> Elements of this fic were inspired by [anarchetypal](anarchetypal.tumblr.com), who is a super awesome person and has great Fake AH Crew headcanons.
> 
> Also, future chapters probably won't be this long. Let me know if there are any errors; I've been staring at this for a while and may have missed some.
> 
> -Bookworm


	2. The Bearded Banshee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys get some answers, and some alcohol.

The bar Gavin had mentioned turned out to be almost entirely empty; only the bearded bartender was still there.

"I was about to close up, can I get you guys anything?" he asked. "Wow, you three look like you saw a ghost." He chuckled.

"You have no idea," Michael said. "I just need something really strong."

"We didn’t just see a ghost, it almost killed us!" Gavin burst out.

"Yeah, basically," Ray added.

The bartender’s eyes widened. "Okaaay. Three Ramseys, then."

"Can I just get a water?" Ray asked. "Alcohol’s not really my thing."

"Two Ramseys and a water," the bartender said.

"What’s a Ramsey?" Gavin asked.

"Whiskey, vodka, gin, tequila, and rum all mixed together," the bartender said, pulling the drinks he listed out from under the bar. "It tastes absolutely terrible, but it gets you drunk fast enough that you won’t care how it tastes. I named it after a friend of mine." He prepared the drinks and passed them to Michael and Gavin, and handed Ray a glass of water. "So. Tell me about this ghost."

"It was a super pissed-off poltergeist apparently attached to a cheap ouija board," Michael said. He took a sip of the drink and almost spat it out. "Holy shit, that’s disgusting."

The bartender laughed. "I warned you."

"We burned the board and then Ray did a sage thing to clear out the area," Gavin added. He cautiously sipped his own Ramsey and gagged. “Eugh, that’s nasty.” He stared at the drink before taking a huge gulp, and he shivered as he swallowed it.

"A smudging ritual?" the bartender asked, impressed. "How did you know to do that?"

Ray shrugged. "Google."

"I see," the bartender said, in a way that implied he saw not only that but a lot more. "Well, like I said, I’m about to close up, but if you come back tomorrow I have a couple of friends that would be very interested in hearing about your poltergeist experience."

"Really?" Gavin asked.

"Yep, won’t be a problem. If I’m not at the bar when you get here, just ask for Jack, and I can come out and introduce you."

"Wow, thanks!"

"Why are you so interested in this?" Michael asked.

"Ghost-related near-death experiences aren’t exactly common," Jack said. "Especially angry poltergeists attached to ouija boards."

"It wasn’t that big of a deal."

"We almost died," Ray said. "And I had to take a bus at two in the morning. Do you even know how much more disgusting, weird, and downright creepy public transportation is at night? The answer is a lot more. It’s a lot more disgusting."

"Shut up, Ray," Michael said. "Hey, how much are these drinks?"

"On the house," Jack waved him off. "You guys look like you need them."

"Seriously? Thanks."

"Just try not to run into any more murderous spirits before tomorrow."

Gavin grinned and lifted his glass in a mock salute. "No promises."

 

Geoff Ramsey was the only person behind the bar when three assholeish-looking guys walked in early the next evening. Not that he was supposed to be behind the bar, mind you, but Jack wasn’t there and Geoff needed a drink _right now damnit._

"Um, hello?" the middle one, tall and lanky and with a stupidly big nose, asked. "Is Jack here?"

Geoff raised an eyebrow and popped open his beer. "Nope."

"Do you know when he’ll be back?"

"Or where he is, that’d be nice too," the one with curly hair said.

He shrugged, taking a long pull from the bottle. "Nope."

"You’re helpful." the third one, swamped in a too-big purple hoodie, rolled his eyes.

"Yep."

The bell above the door chimed again, a hollow, eerie noise that Geoff had insisted needed to be in the Bearded Banshee, and Ryan strolled in.

"Hey, Geoff," he greeted, barely sparing the other three a glance. "Jack in? He told me to come by around five."

"Nope. Get in line behind these other assholes looking for him."

Ryan looked at the other three for a long moment. "I don’t suppose you’re the three idiots who pissed off a ghost last night?"

"How did you know about that?" the one with the nose asked.

"He’s obviously the guy Jack told us about, Gavin. God, you’re dumb." The curly haired one rolled his eyes and elbowed his friend in the ribs. None of the three noticed the slight shiver that ran through Ryan. Of course, Geoff knew what to look for.

He slammed down about half of his beer before speaking again. "You’re the poltergeist guys? Shit, why didn’t you say so in the first place?" He held out his hand. "Geoff Ramsey."

"Michael Jones," the curly haired one said. "Ramsey as in that hellish drink?"

"You mean the best damn thing ever invented."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night. This is Gavin Free and Ray Narvaez."

"Junior," Ray added seriously.

"Ryan Haywood," Ryan finished with a slight smile on his face.

"So do you actually not know where Jack is, or were you just fucking with us?" Michael asked.

"He’s in the back," Geoff admitted easily. "Getting more stock for the taps."

As if on cue, Jack appeared through the door marked "Employees Only—Especially Not Geoff", a box full of different bottles of liquors in his arms. He gave Geoff a stony look. "Out."

"But I was just—"

" _Out._ "

Geoff slipped out from behind the bar with only a little pouting as Jack took his place. "Hey, Ryan. Boys. Nice to see you all in one piece still."

"Jack," Ryan greeted with a nod. "I can see you’ve made some new friends."

"‘Friends’ is a bit hasty," Michael said.

"I gave you alcohol for free," Jack said, putting a hand on his chest in mock betrayal.

"You didn’t even charge for the Ramseys?" Ryan asked, surprised.

"They survived a poltergeist with no experience with ghosts," Jack said. "I figured that earned them a free drink."

"Speaking of the poltergeist," Geoff said. "What the fuck?"

"That’s very clear, you’re excellent at asking questions," Ray deadpanned.

"What _happened_?" Geoff clarified.

"Someone brought a ouija board to a movie set and by the time I was hired there, weird stuff was happening," Gavin said. "Then the lights started acting up, so the director had to call an electrician—"

"Which was me," Michael interrupted. "I got there and something was seriously fucking pissed, throwing everything sharp it could find. Why do you even _have_ so many blades at the studio?"

Gavin shrugged. "Movie props?"

"Nah, fuck that, they cut through plywood like it was butter!"

Jack cleared his throat. "Some vengeful spirits can alter the physical properties of objects to make them more dangerous."

"Anyway," Ray said, picking up the story, "Michael pussed out and called me, and I saved the fucking day with a lighter and some kind of herb that was probably sage. We burned the ouija board and I did a smudging thing and then we came here."

"Wait, _probably_ sage?" Jack asked. "You don’t even know what herb you used?"

"I’m not a botanist," Ray said defensively. "It worked, didn’t it?"

"Somehow! You can’t just use random herbs with something as serious as a poltergeist!"

"Look, I had like two minutes to grab what I could and get the fuck over there! I wasn’t gonna just wander over to a greenhouse and methodically pick out sage!"

"You could have made the situation so many times worse!"

"But they didn’t, Jack," Ryan said.

"Do you wanna actually tell us about ghosts or were you just going to yell at us for being irresponsible under pressure?" Michael asked.

Jack sighed. "Yeah, sure. Where do you want me to start?"

"Poltergeists?" Gavin suggested.

Jack nodded. "Poltergeists, as you probably already know, are spirits that can physically affect objects and people in the living world. They can be strongly related to emotions, and are usually vengeful, though there are stories of benevolent poltergeists. The one you encountered was attached to a ouija board, right?"

"Yeah."

"Ouija boards are just nasty in general," Jack said. "Using them, no matter how careful you are, can open the door for all kinds of spirit-related trouble."

"Isn’t that the premise of a bunch horror movies?" Ray asked.

"Not surprised," Geoff said. "People love having the shit scared out of them by the normal stuff."

"Bloody lunatics," Gavin muttered.

"What’s the deal with the poltergeist being in the ouija board, anyway?" Michael asked. "I thought they just floated around in houses trying to murder people."

"The rules of what ghosts can and can’t haunt are kind of broad," Jack said. "They can almost always haunt people, places, and even objects they were associated with in life, but that’s really the only concrete rule. What probably happened with the ouija board is when it was used, a poltergeist nearby was pulled through it and bound to it, which would understandably make it pretty angry. It would have started small at first, likely just trying to leave, but when it couldn’t it would have gotten seriously pissed."

"So it was just mad about being stuck in a piece of wood?" Gavin asked. "And we killed it?"

"You can’t kill a ghost, idiot, it’s already dead," Michael scoffed.

"It’s likely you freed the poltergeist from the board by destroying it, and it went off to do whatever it was doing before," Jack said. "A lot of spirits mostly mind their own business unless they’re provoked." He suddenly winced, and rubbed at his forehead.

"You okay, Jack?" Geoff asked.

"Yeah… Just got a killer headache."

The three older men exchanged a Look.

"Is that what happens to most ghosts that are taken care of?" Michael asked, not even noticing the odd exchange. "They just go off on their business? Or is there a way to destroy them?"

"There’s—" Ryan began, getting cut off by a pointed look from Jack.

"There isn’t really a way to destroy a ghost, since that involves killing the actual soul, which is all but impossible to do," Jack said. "Most people who get rid of ghosts usually find some way to appease the spirit and help them move on."

"People go out of their way to bust ghosts?" Michael asked.

"You gotta call someone, Michael," Ray said. They burst out into an awful-sounding a capella rendition of the _Ghostbusters_ theme song, and Gavin immediately joined in. Jack rolled his eyes at Geoff, who was tapping his foot with an amused smile on his face. Ryan laughed softly as the three made absolute fools of themselves.

"Holy shit, we should be Ghostbusters," Michael said after the first chorus, and Ray and Gavin trailed off.

"What, like, go after ghosts and tell them to calm their asses down?" Ray asked.

"Yeah! We took care of one already, how much harder could it be?"

"You’d be surprised," Ryan said.

"Yeah, right, what do you know about hunting ghosts?" Michael asked.

"Actually," Geoff said, taking a drink from his almost-forgotten beer. "We’ve already been through all this shit."

"You hunted ghosts?"

"Yeah, about… ten years ago, Jack?"

"Sounds right to me," Jack said.

"You can give us pointers!" Gavin said eagerly.

"Isn’t that what we were already doing?" Ryan pointed out.

"You told us about like, one type of ghost," Ray said. "There’s got to be other types, right?"

"We didn’t really get much experience with a whole lot of ghosts," Jack said. "We do still have the equipment, though."

"Equipment?"

"EMF meters, infrared and UV cameras, that sort of thing," Ryan said.

"Why d’you need cameras?" Gavin asked.

"Most ghosts don’t quite match up with us in terms of existence," Jack explained. "They can interact with stuff, sure, but normal people need help to be able to see them. There are ways to detect them without cameras, but I’ve found a good camera pretty helpful if I want to put a face to a name."

"Where is it all?"

"Geoff, is it still in your truck?" Jack asked.

Geoff shrugged. "Should be."

"Can we look at it?"

"Yeah, I guess." Geoff knocked back the rest of his nearly-forgotten beer and headed for the door. "Follow me, nerds."

The other five obediently followed Geoff out of the bar like a gaggle of freshly-imprinted ducklings, and he led them to a beat-up-looking old pickup truck. He hopped up into the bed and opened the metal box fixed to the front of it, just under the window, as Gavin, Michael, and Ray crowded around the side. Geoff pulled out smaller cardboard boxes, showing them to the other three so that they could see the labels identifying them as various meters and detectors.

Michael barely gave those a passing glance as he saw what else was in the box. "Is that a shotgun? And knives?"

"Not everything that goes bump in the night is just a ghost," Geoff said ominously. "Unless any went missing, I should have silver, iron, and wooden ones in here."

Ray laughed. "For vampires or something?"

"We haven’t come across any," Jack said, not quite answering the question. "But it helps to be prepared."

"Seriously though, what’s the shotgun for?" Michael asked.

Geoff pulled it out and ran his hands along the barrel. "Same as the knives, really," he said. "It helps to be prepared, and some things just need to go down with a shot to the head."

"So what you’re saying is there’s more stuff out there than just ghosts," Gavin said. "Like actual monsters. Bigfoot and Dracula and the Bogeyman?"

"You’re not likely to see a whole lot of those," Jack said. "I had thought we got rid of the weapons a while ago, to be honest." He glared at Geoff, who gave him a helpless shrug.

"Where am I gonna find someone who wants a shotgun and a bunch of rusty old daggers?"

“Have you tried the internet?” Ray suggested. “People there will buy anything.”

“Yeah, if you just have a few strands of hair you could label it as any celebrity’s, and you get at least a hundred bucks for it,” Michael added.

“Brad Pitt,” Ray said.

“Johnny Depp.”

“Benedict Cumberbatch.”

“Robert Pattinson.”

“Have you actually done that?” Ryan asked.

Michael and Ray looked at each other. “Maaaaaaybe,” Ray said.

“Why, are you interested?” Michael asked. “We could hook you up.”

“Please don’t sell me your hair.”

“Look, I’m not selling the weapons,” Geoff said. “I was gonna give ‘em to you since you want to go piss off ghosts or whatever.”

“Seriously?” Michael asked. “All of them?”

Geoff shrugged. “It’s not like we were using them.”

“Can we use the truck too?” Ray asked.

“ _Hell_ no.”

“Aw, why not?” Gavin pouted.

“Because it’s my fuckin’ truck and I literally just met you pricks!”

“We’ll take good care of it, we promise,” Ray pleaded.

“Ray, you don’t even know how to drive,” Michael said.

“Last I checked, you couldn’t drive stick, so shut your mouth, asshole.”

Ryan sighed, regretting what he was about to say before he even said it. “I could drive it.”

“Really?” Gavin asked.

“Really?” Jack echoed, looking surprised.

Geoff considered the idea for a moment, and Ryan half-hoped he would say no. “Yeah, I’ll allow it,” he finally said. “Have fun chaperoning the idiots, Ryan.” He hopped out of the truck bed and sauntered back into the bar.

Michael clapped Ryan on the back. “Welcome to the club, dude.”

“We’re really gonna hunt ghosts, for real?” Gavin asked.

“Hell yeah! And I call shotgun.”

“That’s cheating, Michael,” Ray complained.

“No it’s not, how am I cheating?”

“You can’t call shotgun before anyone’s even planning to get into the car!”

“Yeah, I can!”

“I’ll allow it,” Ryan said, smirking slightly.

“I call shotgun after Michael!” Gavin said.

“No, that’s so not fair!”

Jack laughed. He was looking forward to the stories these four would bring back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuuuuugggggggghhhhhhhh trying to make exposition interesting is hard. I hope I managed, though.
> 
> See you all in two weeks (if Chapter 3 is done by then)! Until then, you can talk to either one of us on our tumblrs [here](http://thebookwormbakery.tumblr.com) and [here](http://butim-justharry.tumblr.com), and I also occasionally post updates and snippets from upcoming chapters when I inevitably amuse myself with my own writing.
> 
> -Bookworm


	3. Arcane Elocution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ryan and Michael go shopping.

“This bookstore feels haunted,” Michael muttered, hunching his shoulders. The little shop was eerily quiet, and dust drifted lazily in the air. He felt like something was watching him, but there was nothing living in sight other than him and Ryan; even the cash register seemed to be unmanned.

Ryan strode confidently forward, apparently not feeling the creepy atmosphere. “There’s not going to be any malicious ghosts in a bookstore, Michael.”

“You haven’t met any crazy librarians. Like, the ones that look like vultures and don’t let you touch anything or speak in anything louder than a whisper.”

“Those actually exist? I thought that was just a movie exaggeration.”

“Dude, my high school had _five._ ”

“Wow.” Ryan lifted a hand to brush dust off the spines of the books closest to him. It was clear that no one had looked at the books in years, or possibly decades.

“So what exactly am I looking for again?” Michael asked, peering at the old books on the shelves. The spines said things like _Anatomy of Newts and its Uses, Ye Olde Potions Brewr Hande Booke, How to Find the Purrfect Familiar_ , and many of them were in languages Michael couldn’t even recognize, let alone read.

“Something loosely Latin-based, probably,” Ryan said. “Anything that is focused on warding off and dispelling ghosts would work, though.”

“Right. That’s gonna be real fun,” Michael muttered.

“Hey, you could be looking for herbs with Ray and Jack,” Ryan said.

Michael made a face. “Weed jokes from Ray every ten seconds? I think I’d rather be here choking on dust.”

“I think Jack would, too,” Ryan said with a chuckle.

They fell into the type of focused silence usually found in libraries, and Ryan found himself enjoying it. Not even the dust really bothered him; it merely tickled his nose, and not even enough to make him sneeze. Michael, on the other hand, was sneezing about every minute from a few shelves over.

“Gesundheit,” Ryan said as Michael sneezed for the seventh time.

“What the fuck, it’s like this dust is _aiming_ for my nose,” he complained. “And what’s the deal with you, how come you’re not sneezing?”

“Maybe my nose is superior.”

“Yeah, whatever. Find anything?”

“No, I think I’m in the entirely wrong section. The languages on these books look distinctly not western.”

“That’s pretty much the opposite of what you said to do!”

“Yeah, well, do as I say and not as I do, Michael.” Ryan moved to a different aisle of shelves and picked a book at random. He fervently hoped it would be in English, almost willed it to be in English, and was pleasantly surprised when it was. Unfortunately, it was filled entirely with tea recipes and pressed, musty-smelling leaves. Ryan sighed and replaced the book, grimacing at the cloud of dust that puffed out. He finally sneezed at that, and violently. He was pretty sure he saw something wet hit the carpet as his vision cleared, too. He avoided the spot and continued his search.

Eventually, he found a promising-looking tome full of hand-written incantations that was even in a readable language. Well, mostly.

“Michael, check this out.”

The younger wandered over and took the dusty relic out of Ryan’s hands, frowning as he flipped through it. “I know I said I took Latin in high school, but that was several years ago and I mainly took it to try and get with this cute girl that was in the class.”

“There’s English in there, too.”

“This is like 20% English, 60% Latin, and 20% some language I don’t recognize!”

“Don’t be so pessimistic.”

“I’m not being pessimistic, I’m being practical.”

Ryan took the book back from Michael to look at it more closely. “I’d say it’s more like 40% English, 40% Latin, and 20% of that other language.”

“That’s still not a lot of recognizable words for me, overall.”

“Look,” Ryan sighed. “The only other book I’ve found in here with a noticeable amount of English in it, that was also legible, was filled with tea recipes and pressed leaves, so take it or leave it.”

Michael glared at him half-heartedly. “Fine. I’ll hold onto this one, but I’m going to keep looking.” He took the book and wandered off, vaguely in the direction Ryan had come from.

It was quiet for a few more moments, and the hairs were starting to prickle on the back of Ryan’s neck as the silence became a little too heavy, when Michael spoke again. 

“What the hell is this? It’s all in Chinese or something and full of leaves and shit.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and didn’t respond, rounding the end of the shelves and jumping a little when he suddenly found himself face-to-face with another person.

“So sorry to frighten you,” they said, giving him a slow smile. “I’m the manager here. Can I help you find anything?”

“Um,” Ryan blinked. “Bestiaries?”

The manager blinked back. “Positive?”

“...yes?”

Their smile was brighter this time. “Third aisle on the left, after Mummifications.”

“Thanks.” He decided not to question why there was a Mummification section and hurried along. 

“Ryan? Did you say something?” Michael poked his head out of the stacks just to the left of the older man.

“No—I mean—yes? I was just talking to the—” Ryan turned to gesture towards the manager, but they had vanished.

“The books?” Michael raised an eyebrow.

“...yeah.”

Michael watched him blankly for a moment before shrugging. “Hey, whatever floats your boat, man.” He returned to the shelves in front of him and Ryan continued on to the Bestiary section.

It wasn’t too difficult to find a complete one, but it took a bit of digging to find one written in English, and then a bit more searching to find one in semi-modern English. As Ryan idly flipped through it, though, he came to the conclusion that it would work well enough for Jack, and if the bearded man disagreed, he could come back and find a different one himself.

He closed the book and it wasn’t until he had walked to the end of the aisle that he realized he had gotten completely turned around somewhere and had no idea where the counter was, let alone the front door or Michael.

“Shit.” Ryan peered into the adjacent aisles, but could see no sign of him. “Michael?”

There was no answer, and Ryan sighed. Just his luck to get totally—

“Lost?”

He jumped again, hissing in a sharp breath. He sighed exasperatedly when he saw it was just the manager, who had crept up behind him _again_. “Can you _please_ stop doing that?”

“Doing what?” the manager asked innocently.

“Sneaking up on me! And that thing where you disappear when I turn around.”

“That's just called walking.” The manager crossed their arms. “If you can't hear me, that's your problem.”

“To answer your question, yes, I am lost,” Ryan admitted. Quietly, he added, “This place is like a labyrinth.”

The manager grinned broadly. “It's supposed to be, thanks for noticing!” The manager then pointed in a seemingly arbitrary direction. “Just head that way, and follow the natural light if you can.”

“Thanks,” Ryan said. “I think.” He started walking in the direction the manager had indicated, turning around every so often to see if they were still there. The manager smiled tightly, as if to say _yes, I'm still here, you doof._

Eventually, he made his way back to the slightly more open and navigable front of the store where Michael was waiting, flipping through the dusty old book Ryan had found for him. He did a double take as he saw the manager lounging in a chair behind the cash register, feet up on the counter. The manager gave him a cheerful wave and took a sip from the coffee cup in their hand. The cup said “Magic Bean” on it; some kind of hipster coffee shop?

“Did you find your weird bestiality books?” Michael asked.

“ _Bestiaries._ ”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“No. No, it’s not.” Ryan took the smaller book from Michael and took his armful of tomes to the cash register. The manager took their feet down and sat up, taking the books to scan them.

“Find everything you needed?” the manager asked.

“Yeah, thanks.”

The manager stacked the books neatly on the counter next to the register. “That’ll be fifteen dollars, eighty-seven cents.”

“Really?”

The manager raised an eyebrow. “Some of these books are so old, their dust has dust. Even five bucks would be a good deal for both parties.”

“Oh. Okay.” Ryan dug in his pocket for the required money, and handed the manager sixteen dollars. The manager handed him his change—thirteen cents—and the stack of books.

“Enjoy your books,” the manager said cheerfully.

“Thanks, you too,” Ryan said, and immediately regretted it. “Shit—I mean—thanks. Bye.” He hurried out of the store before his mouth could betray him again.

Michael followed him out, snickering. “Nice, dude.”

Ryan felt his face grow hot. “Just... take your book and get in the truck.” He opened the driver’s side door, but hesitated, looking back at the bookstore. Or, where the bookstore _was._ “Didn’t the store have a sign in the window? Or some other kind of distinguishing feature?”

Michael looked back at the line of small shops. “Yeah, it… did…” He trailed off, realizing the bookstore was nowhere to be seen. “I knew it was haunted!”

“It’s not haunted!”

“It’s a fucking ghost store, Ryan! It’s a ghost store, and we were almost sad book ghosts trapped in there forever!”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “We were not. It’s probably… probably, um…”

“Yeah, see? You got nothing. Ghost store,” Michael said triumphantly.

“It’s not—” Ryan sighed. “Ghost stores aren’t a thing.”

“Yeah, says you,” Michael scoffed.

Ryan ignored him and got into the truck. The drive back to Jack’s bar was quiet, with only the sounds of the truck’s engine and Michael’s fingers drumming on the cover of his book.

At a red light, Michael cleared his throat. “You know, I sometimes do that too.”

“Hm?”

“Saying ‘you too’ when it’s weird to say it, like you did.”

“That doesn’t really make it any less embarrassing.”

“I know, but… I probably shouldn’t have laughed. So, sorry about that.”

The light turned green, and Ryan smiled as he started moving again. “Apology accepted.”

Michael returned to flipping through the pages of the book. “Hey, we should test one of these spell things out,” he said. “So we don't find out they don't work when a ghost's about to murder us.”

“Okay,” Ryan said. “What do the spells need?”

Michael frowned down at the pages, reading the spidery lettering. “We gotta make a circle, apparently, so a large open space and something to make marks for it.” Ryan made a sharp right turn at that, causing Michael to yelp in surprise and fumble the book. He grabbed at it hastily, and gave himself a papercut for his trouble. “The fuck, Ryan!?”

“What? There's a craft store right here.” Ryan pointed. “We can get chalk or paint, or something.”

Michael huffed and closed the book, leaving a small streak of his blood on the cover. “A little _warning_ would be nice,” he muttered.

Ryan grinned wickedly. “Payback for laughing at me.”

“You are without a doubt the cruelest chauffeur I’ve ever had.”

Ryan parked the truck and waited for Michael to disembark. “Do you need me to come with you, or can you buy art supplies on your own?” he asked.

“Fuck off, I got it.” Michael closed the door of the truck as Ryan laughed, and he trudged into the craft store. He edged around the employees attempting to push new gimmicky glitter glues and foam shapes onto him and picked paints and boxes of chalk off the shelves at random. He also grabbed brushes and cans of spray paint, just in case. He wasn’t going to pretend he knew much about art—he was pretty much just picking whatever he thought he could conceivably need.

He must have been doing something right, because Ryan looked impressed when Michael joined him in the truck. “You did that really quickly,” he said.

Michael shrugged. “I wasn’t about to debate the pros and cons of various shades of green for two hours.”

“Fair enough.” Ryan restarted the truck. “Did you have a testing area in mind, or did you want me to drive around aimlessly?”

“Isn’t there a park with a basketball court somewhere near Jack’s bar?”

“Did you want to be that close?”

“I’m not planning to magically call down a fucking hurricane, Ryan.”

Ryan shrugged. “Okay.”

The basketball court was, thankfully, deserted. Michael had been almost buzzing in his eagerness to experiment, and he jumped out of the truck almost as soon as it stopped moving, book and supplies in his arms. By the time Ryan joined him on the court, he had opened the box of chalk and was examining the sticks. “What color do you think I should use?” he asked as Ryan approached him.

“I thought you didn’t want to debate the pros and cons of various shades of green.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “There’s only two shades of green in the box, and I don’t even wanna use them anyway. I was thinking white or blue or something.”

“Blue is nice,” Ryan said. Nodding seriously at the input, Michael reached into the box and pointedly pulled out the white chalk. He began dragging it in a rough circular shape around the basketball court. “That’s rather oblong for a circle,” he said, watching the younger man. “Is artistic ability a factor in this?”

“Shut up,” Michael said. “It’s good enough.” He consulted the book, muttering himself as he ran a dusty finger down the page, leaving a smear of chalk in the margin.

“You haven’t even had it for two hours and you’re getting all sorts of stains in there,” Ryan commented. Michael shot him a glare before adding complicated lines and glyphs to the interior of the circle. “What kind of spell are you going to try to do?”

“It’s a spirit-repelling thing,” Michael said. “Works on…” He looked at the book again. “All supernatural creatures, it’s the most basic all-purpose protection spell.”

“Wow.” Ryan moved so that he was standing outside the circle. “That seems like a complicated preparation process for a ‘basic’ spell.”

“Dude, I don’t know, I’m just doing what the book is telling me.” Michael put the chalk back into its box and dusted off his hands on his jeans. “Hey, go grab a camera so you can record this.”

“Why?” Ryan asked, already walking back toward the truck.

“The others are probably gonna want to know what happens, right?”

“I guess.” Ryan dug around in the box in the truck bed, eventually pulling out an old video camera.

Michael scoffed when he saw it. “You’d honestly be better off using a phone than that dinosaur.”

Ryan pouted. “Don’t hurt its feelings, this was an excellent camera.”

“The video’s going to be so shitty,” Michael complained.

“Good thing this is only for internal review, then,” Ryan said. He turned on the camera and aimed it at Michael. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Michael picked up the book and began reading. Ryan winced as he mispronounced a good quarter of the words he was reading out. Still, the clumsy chalk circle began glowing faintly, and steaming profusely. When Michael finished, the whole thing shuddered, and then exploded outward with a blinding flash and a rush of hot air.

Ryan was blown backward, and he landed heavily on his back, gasping as the wind was knocked out of him. He struggled to a sitting position, attempting to get himself to breathe normally again and blinking the spots out of his eyes. The camera smoked faintly, having been shorted out by the explosion. “Michael, you killed my camera.”

“It was old, anyway,” Michael said, sounding slightly dazed. “I think I did something wrong.”

“No shit! You mispronounced a quarter of it and you can’t even draw a circle.”

“You wound me, Ryan.”

“ _You_ wound my equipment. Lethally so.”

“I put that thing out of its misery.”

“Well, then in return for that ‘favor,’ you can tell Jack all about this little escapade.” Ryan slowly got to his feet, rubbing his throbbing temples. “I think I’m going to need some strong painkillers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! Or, y'know, October. We're shifting the schedule so that there'll be a super cool chapter coming out _on_ Halloween, which will be super rad. And if we don't keep the schedule after this, then it'll most likely be to pack as many chapters into this month as possible, which will be... interesting... for us, and hopefully super exciting for you!
> 
> -Bookworm


	4. It's A Punderful Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which teams are named, and the team goes on their first "official" ghost hunt.

“Ryaaaaaaan, my camera’s all fucked up,” Ray complained.

Ryan didn’t even glance up, too busy helping Michael set up his own camera. “Gavin, help Ray. Just make sure the setting is at infrared, because it’ll pick up the cold spots any ghost will cause,” he said to Michael.

“Ray, you damn sausage, you’ve got it on the high contrast setting, that’s why it looks all gammy,” Gavin said.

“I understood some of those words,” Ray said blankly, squinting at the buttons as Gavin fixed the problem. “Whoa, look at those colors.”

“It’s picking up our heat signatures,” Gavin said, handing the camera back over to Ray, who immediately raised it to his eye and examined everyone’s silhouette. “Just keep an eye out for cold spots—they’ll be dark blue.”

“Sometimes purple or black,” Ryan added, switching on his own camera. 

Ray snickered as he panned over Michael and noticed that his feet were greenish blue. “Getting cold feet, Jones?”

“Getting cold dick, Narvaez?”

“What?”

“What?”

The two stared at each other over the tops of their cameras for a long moment before Gavin started laughing at them, causing Ray to join in.

“The fuck kind of comeback was that?” he snorted.

“The kind your mom likes,” Michael rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hold back a smile.

“Mom jokes already?” Ryan shook his head. “I know you guys are young, but come on.”

“Cum on what?”

Ray’s deadpan comment sent the three young men into near-hysterics, and Ryan sighed. He _really_ wished Jack or Geoff had agreed to go. Wait, scratch that—Geoff could be just as bad as these three. He really wished _Jack_ had gone with them.

When they finally calmed down enough to hiccuping giggles, Ryan decided to move forward with the lesson.

“Okay, who remembers what I told you about this house?”

Gavin stuck his hand up in the air eagerly and Ryan resisted the urge to smack it back down. “You don’t have to raise your hand, Gavin, this isn’t school.”

“It’s haunted,” the Brit replied promptly. 

“No shit,” Michael muttered as he rolled his eyes.

“Signs of the haunting?” Ryan pressed forward.

“Multiple accounts of teenagers running screaming from the place around two in the morning,” Ray offered. “Also weird noises, disembodied laughter, drawings on the walls that seem to appear in seconds, and an overall feeling of creepiness around the place.”

“Thank you,” Ryan nodded. “So what are we doing?”

“We use the cameras to search for cold spots,” Gavin jumped back in. “Ghosts create cold spots—they practically suck the heat out of a room.”

“We also use the protective charms that Jack dug up somewhere in the back room to keep us safe, hopefully.” Michael held up his left hand, showcasing the leather band marked with all sorts of symbols tied onto his wrist. Gavin and Ray also had the bands on. They had asked Ryan why he wasn’t wearing his, and only got a cryptic answer about having plenty of protection against one low-threat ghost already. “And I have the spell book.”

“That is a _last resort_ , Michael, remember?” Ryan said sternly. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, don’t worry. I won’t blast you fifty feet backwards again, I promise.”

Ryan just sighed again and turned back to the truck. “Other supplies?”

“Salt.” Gavin shifted his camera so he could count them off on his fingers. “Iron. Sage that’s more likely to actually be sage this time.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Ray said defensively.

“And chalk,” Michael finished, ignoring Ray and pulling out his pack of sidewalk chalk. 

“Good,” Ryan nodded. “Now, since Michael and Ray know jack shit about the cameras, we’re going in groups of two. Michael, you’re with Gavin, and Ray is with me.”

There was a bit of grumbling, but they eventually all agreed to the arrangement.

“So, how do you know so much about cameras, Ry?” Ray asked as they all grabbed their bags and headed towards the house.

“I’ve been using this equipment for years now,” Ryan explained. “And I work in IT.”

“You’re a tech support guy?” Michael clarified. “Huh. Did not have you pegged as that.”

“What did you think I was, a ballerina?”

“More like a salesman of some sort,” Michael shrugged. “You give off that vaguely menacing vibe of the guys that show up at our door demanding we buy windows.”

“Well, I _have_ played a number of villains on-stage,” Ryan allowed.

“On-stage?” Gavin asked. “What, like a play?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’m a stage director and occasional actor at the theater not far from the Bearded Banshee.”

“Neeerrrrrrrd,” Ray said. Ryan pouted a little.

“I get enough shit from Geoff about this, don’t you start.”

“Too late!” Ray cackled gleefully. 

Michael took pity on the older man and changed the subject. “So, what does Geoff do besides hang around the bar all day?”

“He’s a photographer!” Gavin jumped in enthusiastically before Ryan could answer. “One of the best, actually. I’ve seen his landscape photos used plenty of times in animation departments as references for CGI backdrops. He’s brilliant!”

“How come you didn’t fangirl over him in the bar at first, then?”

“Well, I didn’t realize then that he was _the_ Geoff Ramsey, of Ramsey Photography,” Gavin said in a _“well, duh”_ tone. “We had a lovely little chat yesterday while you lot were all off shopping. He asked about my cameras and then I realized who he was and we talked about photography and filmography for a nice long while.”

“Neeerrrrrrrd,” Ray repeated. Michael snickered.

“Oi!”

“Welcome to the nerd club, Gavin. We have jackets.”

“Really?”

“No, of course not!” Ryan nearly shouted. “Come on, you dipshits, we’re wasting night.”

The three younger men fell in behind Ryan, scowling to various degrees as they walked up to the house.

“Holy shit, Ray,” Michael said, starting to giggle again. “The heat patterns on your back look like a dick.”

“What, really?” Gavin came over and shoved his face in front of Michael’s to look into his camera, ignoring Michael’s “dude, what the fuck, use your own damn camera.”

Gavin started laughing. “That _is_ a knob on your back, Ray!”

“Checking out my ass, Michael?” Ray asked.

“Oh yeah, you got a damn sexy ass,” Michael said.

“What if I shake it a little?” Ray started wiggling his butt back and forth.

“Ohhhhhh shit, that is sexy as hell, I am so fucking turned on right now.” Michael laughed.

Ryan scowled back at them from the front of the line. “Would it kill you to be serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Probably.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised.”

They quieted down, though, save for Michael and Ray snickering, and it lasted until they got into the house.

“So what exactly has this ghost been drawing on the walls?” Michael asked.

“Dicks,” Ray answered immediately. “Larger-than-life, expertly illustrated dongs.”

“That’s awesome.”

“Incredibly awesome.”

“Perhaps you could say it’s awesome enough to jack off to.”

“Okay, I’m stopping that conversation right there,” Ryan said. “Michael, go with Gavin and start looking upstairs for this ghost. Ray, let’s see if we can spot it in the foyer.”

Michael snickered at the word “foyer” and Ryan rolled his eyes. Of course he’d have the bad luck to be alone with three actual twelve year olds.

“Ryyyaaaaan,” Gavin complained. “You can’t split up Team Lads like this!”

“What?”

“Team Lads,” Gavin repeated. “Me, Michael, and Ray, we’re the Lads.”

“What about me?”

“You don’t count,” Ray said. “You’re part of whatever group Jack and Geoff are in.”

“Team Killjoy,” Michael muttered, causing the other two Lads to laugh again.

Ryan shot him a look. “Team Gents?” he suggested. “I don’t think you want Jack and Geoff to hear you calling them killjoys.”

“Lads and Gents,” Gavin said, trying the two words together. “Oh, that sounds nice!”

“Great, now go upstairs with Michael, because I can and will split you up.”

Gavin pouted, but headed up the stairs anyway with Michael just behind him. The two could hear Ray and Ryan talking quietly in the foyer.

Michael stopped in front of a large mirror hanging on the wall, with a small table placed just under it. “Hey, Gavin,” he whispered, quietly enough that the two downstairs wouldn’t hear him.

Gavin stopped a few feet ahead and turned around. “Yeah, Michael?”

“Should we draw a few dicks on the mirror for the ghost?”

Gavin shifted his feet, torn between not wanting to vandalize personal property and the temptation of how hilarious the idea was. Finally, he said, “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Michael grinned wickedly. He set his camera down on the little hall table and breathed on the mirror, creating a foggy patch, and traced a roughly penis-shaped drawing in the fog. Gavin covered his mouth to keep from laughing. “You should add a jizz line,” he whispered.

A high-pitched giggle escaped Michael as his expression lit up. “Holy shit, that’s perfect.” He added the line and picked up his camera again, and froze. “Gavin,” he whispered urgently. “Gavin, turn around.”

Gavin turned, looking into his camera, and let out a strangled squeak at the sight of the dark blue outline approaching him. He and Michael scrambled back as the ghost approached the mirror. After a few seconds of panicked glancing between camera screens and the hall mirror, a second fog cloud appeared and the ghost drew a second dick on the mirror, above Michael’s. The ghost was clearly more experienced, adding more detail and achieving a more effortlessly curved shape.

“You just got shown up by a ghost, Michael,” Gavin whispered.

“Yeah, shut up.”

“Is everything okay up there?” Ryan called up. “I heard noises.”

The ghost retreated when it heard Ryan’s voice, drifting away from the mirror and back down the hallway.

“Yeah, we’re fine!” Michael replied.

“Any sign of the ghost?”

Michael glanced between the ghost, now slowly approaching again, and the stairs. “Yeah, we found it,” he said. He looked at the ghost again to address it. “Hey, don’t be scared, okay? Ryan’s friendly, we’re gonna try to help you if you need it.”

The ghost's outline quivered as the sound of footsteps echoed up the stairs.

“Careful, guys,” Michael cautioned. “You’re scaring it.”

“ _We’re_ scaring it?” Ray asked incredulously. “It’s a ghost, shouldn’t it be scaring us?”

A distant laugh echoed through the hall and the outline disappeared completely as Ryan and Ray joined the others.

“Now you’ve done it.”

Ryan sighed when he noticed the dicks drawn on the mirror. “Really, you two?”

“Hey, only one of those was us,” Michael protested.

“What, was the other one this ghost that’s now nowhere to be found?” Ray scoffed.

“Yeah, actually,” Gavin said. “She came over here and drew the better-looking one in response to Michael’s.”

“Wait, ‘she’?” Michael asked. “Where the hell did you get a gender?”

“The hips,” Gavin explained. “They were all curvy, like a girl’s would be.” He did an awkward little shimmy, including hand motions, to demonstrate.

“The hips don’t lie,” Ray said, eliciting snickers from the other Lads and a soft chuckle from Ryan.

“Shakira, Shakira!” Michael called.

“What if the ghost is Shakira?” Gavin asked.

“Pretty sure she’s still alive, Gavin.”

“But, Micool, what _if_!”

“I don’t suppose either of you had your cameras on during this dick drawing contest?” Ryan jutted in, trying to steer the conversation back towards the original point.

“Oh, yeah… hang on—” Michael fiddled his camera and stopped the recording, rewinding the footage until he paused it with a triumphant noise. “Look!”

A replay of the footage showed the outline once again appearing and approaching the mirror, drawing the better dick and then vanishing as Ryan and Ray approached. 

“I dunno about any curves, but it definitely drew the other dick,” Ryan said as the recording stopped. 

“Told you so.”

“Anyways,” he rolled his eyes, “It seems to like you two, so Ray and I will—Ray?”

Gavin and Michael peered around Ryan with a frown. Their friend had seemingly vanished.

“Ray, that’s not funny,” Michael called. “Stop being dumb and get out here.”

“Ray, you prick, quit messing about!”

“Shut up,” Ryan hissed, throwing a hand out to indicate silence. “The ghost probably took him. He should be fine, we just need to find him and get rid of the ghost before daylight. Got it?”

The remaining Lads nodded quietly, eyes wide and jaws set. Hopefully, Ray would be okay when they found him.

\---

“Nice place you got here,” Ray commented, looking around the dusty old room. “Could probably use a vacuuming and some Swiffer action, but hey, so does my apartment.”

The distant laugh rang out again and Ray grinned. “Ghost with a sense of humor. Great change from the last one I met. That one tried to kill me multiple times.”

_“Was it Ray-venous for you?”_

“Oh my god, that was horrible,” Ray laughed. “I take back what I said. Your sense of humor died, too.” He wandered over to the far wall. Like the others, it was covered in doodles of genitalia. “So, why penises?”

_“Why not?”_

“Fair point. Let me rephrase: why _only_ penises?”

A cold draft made him turn his head, and Ray couldn’t help but laugh at the drawing his attention had been brought to.

“Dickbutt is still a dick, so my question still stands!”

There was no answer, but a piece of chalk was rolled his way. Ray picked it up with a smirk. 

“I hope you like memes, because you’re about to get a lot of them.”

\---

“Are you _sure_ Ray will be fine?” Michael asked again. “What if the ghost, I don’t know, eats people or something.”

“Then it would have eaten you when you and Gavin were up here alone,” Ryan said, for about the third time. “We’re in a relatively small house, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find Ray and the ghost. Just look for hot and cold spots on your cameras.”

“Should we split up, to cover more ground?” Gavin suggested.

“That could be—”

“No,” Michael insisted. “What if the ghost decides to pick us off one by one when we’re alone?”

“It can do that anyway,” Ryan pointed out. “We’ve already seen that, with Ray.”

Michael bit his lip. “I still think splitting up is a bad idea.”

“But if we want to find him—”

“Michael’s right, Gavin,” Ryan said. “We’re safer in a group. Not by much, granted, but still safer.”

Gavin pouted, but stayed close, aiming his camera into the rooms they passed on the left. “What are the chances of secret passages in here?” he asked.

“Not that high,” Ryan said. “We’re in suburban Austin, they’re not too big on secret passages.”

“There’s still a lot of places people can fit into, though,” Michael said. “Crawl spaces, dumbwaiters…”

“And the possibilities grow if the victim doesn’t have to be alive,” Ryan added casually.

Michael turned to shoot him a look. “Can you not, please?”

“Sorry.”

They were quiet for a few minutes as they searched, then Gavin spoke again. “Hey, Ryan?”

“Yeah?”

“You used to do this stuff all the time with Geoff and Jack, right?”

“Yep.”

“Did one of you ever get kidnapped?”

Ryan ran a hand tiredly over his face before answering. “Once.”

That caught Michael’s attention. “What happened?”

“We went in, we let our guard down, and Jack got got. He’s fine now, obviously.”

Michael and Gavin exchanged looks. “But, what happened to him? While he was with the ghost?”

“It wasn’t a ghost.”

“What?” Gavin sidled up closer to Ryan. “What was it, then?”

“Something very old and very cranky. If you want more details, you’ll have to ask Jack. It’s not my story to tell.” Before either could protest, something else rang through the hallway.

“OH GOD, I NEED AN ADULT!”

Michael almost dropped his camera in shock. “That was Ray!”

“Can ghosts rape people?” Gavin asked worriedly as Michael spun around, trying to determine where the shout had come from.

“First time for everything,” Ryan muttered. “This way,” he said louder, hurrying down the hall towards the back of the house.

Just around the corner, they found a door that wouldn’t open. Michael slammed his fist against it a few times. “Ray! Ray, can you hear me?”

There was a bang and a muffled curse. “Shit—yeah, it’s me! How’re you guys doing?”

“We’re fine,” Ryan said quickly. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just stubbed my toe on the dumb chair.”

“We heard you yelling,” Michael cut back in worriedly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Oh, wow, you guys heard that?” Ray laughed a little. “Yeah, I’m fine. Barb just told me the _worst_ pun ever.”

“Who the bloody hell is Barb? Is there another hostage in there with you?”

“What? No, Barbara’s the ghost. Don’t worry, she’s cool.”

“She kidnapped you!”

“Yeah, because I made a smart comment about how she should scare us, not because she’s an asshole.”

The other three looked at one another in confusion.

“Ray?” Ryan finally asked. “Can you open the door? It’s locked from the inside.”

“Huh? Oh, would you look at that.”

There was a click and the door swung open, revealing Ray, who looked like he had been rolling in pink dust, but was otherwise unharmed. His camera was even sitting on the small end table behind him. “Sup.”

“You dick, I was worried about you!” Michael immediately pulled him in for a hug, which Ray accepted with minimal complaining.

“Why are you covered in chalk?” Ryan asked.

“I might have added to Barbara’s art collection.”

Ray gestured for them to enter the room, and no one could keep a straight face at the decorations inside. The multitude of penises and Dickbutts now had all sorts of memes scrawled in between. Pepe the Frog made the most appearances, but Doge was a close second, along with all the different Trollfaces that he could think of.

“Ray, you’re a dork.”

“I believe the proper term is ‘meme-loving fuck’. If you’re going to insult me, at least do it right, Michael.”

“So where is the ghost now?” Ryan asked, steering them back towards the matter at hand.

Ray shrugged. “Around. She vanished when you guys started banging on the door. I don’t think we need to do anything drastic, though. She’s harmless, just wants to hang out and draw dicks and make bad puns.”

“What did she say that was so bad you yelled for an adult?” Gavin asked curiously.

_“I told him that Pepe didn’t look very peppy, and maybe a Ray of sunshine was needed.”_

Ray, Ryan, and Michael all groaned while Gavin laughed.

“That’s pretty top, actually,” he grinned, raising his camera to see the outline of the ghost floating a few feet away. “So you’re Barbara, then?”

_“That’s me, Barbara the ghost. Boo-bara, if you will.”_

“Oh my God,” Michael complained. “Make it stop.”

“A pun-loving ghost,” Ryan sighed. “I’d say I’ve seen it all now, but that’s a bad assertion to make in this business.”

_“Look, I know you guys are Ghostbusters or whatever,”_ Barbara said, _“But would it be okay to just leave me alone? I’m having fun here - I doubt I could draw dicks in Heaven without getting into trouble, and I like to think I’m not bad enough for Hell.”_

“Will you at least keep the screaming teenagers to a minimum?” 

_“Hey, if they come in here, I’m going to spook them a little whether I mean to or not,”_ she pointed out. _“But I’ll try to keep them from pissing themselves, yeah.”_

Ryan shrugged. “You don’t seem to be doing any real harm, and I think you could probably move on whenever you wanted, so yeah. I guess you can keep doing your thing.”

The outline wavered a little on the camera screen, looking somewhat like Barbara was jumping up and down excitedly. _“Thanks! It means a lot guys - and hey, come visit whenever you want. I’d love to teach the angry one how to draw.”_

“Michael,” Ray supplied easily. “Yeah, his dick could use some work.”

“Shut the fuck up, Ray, at least I didn’t get kidnapped.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and put his hands on the pair’s shoulders. “Sorry to bother you, Barbara. We’ll keep in touch.” He tightened his grip and started steering them away. “Come on, you two. Jack wanted to hear everything after we finished up, so let’s head back to the bar.”

Gavin darted forward and grabbed Ray’s camera from the table, turning to wave at the ghost. “Bye! It was lovely to meet you!”

She gave her echoey laugh again. _“Bye, dude. Don’t forget to visit!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so excited to post this chapter that I stayed up until it was midnight in my time zone so I could post it asap and that was probably a bad idea because I have to get up early tomorrow but HEY NEW CHAPTER FOR YOU GUYS, STUFF'S GONNA GET REAL INTERESTING NEXT CHAPTER
> 
> -Bookworm


	5. Burn, Baby, Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plot thickens, like a simmering stew. Man I love stew. Stew's awesome. It's like soup with more food and less broth. Anyway yeah, plot. It happens a lot in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HALLOWEEN HAVE AN EXTRA-SPOOKY CHAPTER

Jack looked up as the bell above the door chimed, brow furrowing at the state of the men walking in. Michael was carrying Ray bridal-style, Gavin was dragging his feet and looked downright exhausted, and Ryan was holding a bloody cloth to his nose.

“What the hell happened to you guys?” he asked, hurrying around the bar, first aid kit in hand.

Ryan waved off Jack’s attention as Michael unceremoniously dumped Ray onto a barstool. “Dey’re all okay,” he said thickly. 

“Ray’s just a lazy asshole,” Michael said, sitting down next to his friend. “And Gavin accidentally headbutted Ryan while getting into the truck.”

“Sorry,” the Brit said sheepishly, for what was probably the fortieth time.

“Id’s not brwoken,” Ryan said as Jack tried to take a look. “Jusd rubtured a few bwood vedsals.”

The bartender shook his head and went to put the kit away. “Three weeks of ghost hunting and the worst injury so far is from Gavin being Gavin.”

“Oi!”

“You guys are incredibly lucky,” Jack continued. “The usual?”

The Lads nodded eagerly and Ryan smiled from behind the cloth as Jack pulled out two beers for Michael and Gavin, sliding Ray a can of Red Bull and Ryan one of Diet Coke. While the others immediately toasted a job well done, Ryan pressed the cold can against the side of his nose.

“Where’s Geoff?” Michael asked after the toast.

Jack shrugged unconcernedly. “Got called out for a late job. Some couple wanted engagement pictures in the moonlight and hired him for it.”

“I hope he’s at least somewhat sober,” Ray said dryly.

“He only had one beer before heading out, don’t worry,” Jack chuckled. “I made sure to keep him in check.” He glanced over at Ryan, who was now dabbing gingerly at his nose. “Looks like it stopped bleeding, if you want to go wash your face in the bathroom.”

The other Gent nodded and stood, setting down his drink and heading for the small bathroom in the back. 

The Lads turned their attention to Jack as Ryan left. “So, heard of any more hauntings for us?” 

“You just finished a job, Michael, take a break for a second,” Jack said. “The ghosts aren’t going anywhere while you have a beer. Besides, I want to know what happened at the school.”

“Bloody Scooby-Doo, that’s what happened,” Gavin scowled. “Damn ghost chased me and Ray in and out of classrooms for _ages_.”

“Do you know anything about magic or banishing spells?” Michael asked. “No, so shut up. Ryan and I needed a distraction for the ghost while we set everything up.”

“It sucked, but it worked,” Ray nodded.

“Did the ghost turn out to be some guy in a costume and complain about ‘you meddling kids’ afterwards?” Jack asked.

“No, but that would have been _hilarious_ ,” Michael laughed. “I mean—”

There was a loud _whoosh_ sound, somewhat like a flamethrower, and a lot of smoke suddenly filled the room. Gavin yelped as Michael tackled him and Ray to the floor instinctively, everyone coughing and squinting at each other. Jack had ducked down behind the bar, crawling over to peek at the Lads from around the corner.

“Guys?”

“We’re okay,” Michael said, futilely rubbing at his glasses. 

_**“I seek Haywood.”** _

The voice was booming, nearly to the point of rattling their teeth within their skulls, and made Gavin and Ray scatter like mice. Michael pressed his back against the bar and thought he heard Jack sigh.

“He’s in the bathroom!” Jack called, and how the hell was his voice not shaking? Michael hadn’t felt this scared at any point since starting to play with the supernatural—even that first night in the movie studio, when actual swords and knives were being thrown at him, hadn’t caused him to truly shiver with fear.

_**“Bring him forth.”** _

“What the _fuck_?”

Michael wasn’t sure if he felt better or worse when he heard Ryan’s voice—whatever this thing was, it was bad news, and it wanted his new friend. But Ryan sounded more annoyed than anything.

“You’ve made your point, stop the fog machine, man,” Ryan said, walking further into the room. There was a thump as he walked into something and cursed under his breath.

The bag containing Michael’s spellbook came sliding towards him, and it might have been an accident, but he didn’t especially care if it was part of a plan or not at the moment as long as he had it.

“Alright, sorry for trying to make an entrance,” a voice grumbled, just barely identifiable as the base behind the thunderous words from before. The smoke started to clear, revealing a scene that was definitely not what Michael had expected.

Ryan stood a few feet in front of him, near the middle of the room, where another man was. He looked to be around Geoff’s age, maybe a little older, and looked about as dorky and non-threatening as possible. He had on glasses and a baseball cap with the Hawaiian islands stitched on, as well as dad jeans. Combined with the plain black polo shirt, and the fact he was a bit chubby and smiling pleasantly, the stranger wasn’t exactly the vision of evil Michael had been expecting. More like a vision of suburbia. 

“Burnie,” Ryan sighed. “I was wondering if you’d ever show up again.”

“What are you talking about? It’s only been like a week.”

“A week?” Ryan repeated incredulously. “It’s been _fifteen years_ since you fucked off.”

“Shit, seriously?” The man, Burnie, frowned. “Time flies when you’re having fun, I suppose. Or, well,” he laughed. “Time flies when you’re corrupting and instigating and causing general bad vibes.”

Michael slowly unzipped his bag, hoping the sound of the zipper would be masked by Burnie and Ryan… catching up? How the fuck had this guy not even been mentioned once if the two of them were such good friends? His fingers curled around a holy water grenade—it was definitely not just a water balloon filled with holy water, shut up—and, before throwing it, took another look around the bar.

Gavin, he knew, had disappeared into the hallway leading to the bathrooms. He spotted Ray, or rather, Ray’s checkerboard Vans, poking out from under the retro pinball machine off to the side of the bar. It was possibly one of the worst hiding spots Michael had ever seen. As he watched, the shoes slowly retracted into the shadows under the machine.

Ryan’s voice gained a tone of exasperation, and before he could psych himself out, Michael popped up from behind the bar and lobbed the (holy) water balloon. He ducked back down and heard a smacking sound and a subsequent, significantly wetter-sounding smack, followed by shouts of “what the fuck!?” and “damn it, Michael!”

Michael peeked over the edge of the bar to two damp and angry older men glaring at him. “Begone?”

Ryan’s head dropped into his hands in defeat, and Burnie just looked bewildered. “Who the hell is this?”

“Michael,” Ryan answered with a sigh. “Don’t pay attention to him.”

“Fuck you too, Ryan,” Michael said, still hiding mostly behind the bar.

Burnie looked curious now. “Is he your pet?”

“No,” Ryan said sharply. “He’s a friend.”

“Some friend,” he scoffed. “Throwing holy water at you.”

“ _He doesn’t know,_ ” Ryan hissed, unfortunately loudly enough for the rest of the bar to hear.

The top of Ray’s head inched out from under the pinball machine. “Doesn’t know what?”

Ryan groaned.

“Way to whisper, dumbass,” Burnie chuckled. “You gonna tell your ‘friends,’ or should I do the honors?”

“Burnie, I swear to—” Ryan stopped, looking pained for a moment, and the other laughed.

“Swear to _who_ , exactly?”

“Shut up, you know what I mean,” Ryan grouched.

“Are you gonna tell us or what?” Ray asked. Michael glanced over at his friend and felt marginally braver. At least he could see what was going on; the only part of Ray that was visible was the top of his beanie.

“Some friend you are, keeping secrets,” Burnie grinned. “He’s a demon.”

“Sorry, what.” The rest of Ray’s head emerged at that. It wasn’t a question, more of a lack of anything else to say.

“A demon,” Burnie repeated. “Creepy evil eyes, questionable bargains, the whole shebang.”

“His eyes look pretty normal to me,” Michael said skeptically.

“Yeah, right _now_. We don’t all go around looking evil all the time, we’d never get anything done. Ryan, do the eye thing.”

“No, fuck off.”

“Please?”

“ _You_ do the eye thing,” Ryan snapped. “I’m not the only demon in the room, Burnie, or did you forget?”

“Wow, you’re full of vinegar today,” Burnie muttered. 

“I’m not the one who vanished for _fifteen years_ after promising to be back the next day,” Ryan pointed out. “And then proceeded to just hang out all the dirty laundry in front of my friends.”

“Um, eye thing?” Michael asked quietly, wanting to get back on track.

“Oh, right. Watch and weep, nerds.” Burnie blinked, and there was a loud thunk as Ray slammed himself against the wall under the pinball machine.

While his clothes had stayed the same, the vision of suburbia was utterly destroyed when his eyes opened again. The gray-blue irises that Michael had barely noted before seemed to be, horribly cheesy though it seemed, _burning_ within Burnie’s face. Circles of orange, like campfire flames, within pitch black scleras—he had truly taken on the visage of the demon he claimed to be. There was a tinkling sound of broken glass, and Michael felt something bite into his palm, but he couldn’t tear himself away from the hellfire gaze to see what had broken.

The tension both shattered and rose at lightning speed when there was a very distinctive squawking noise from the hallway. Everyone looked over to see Gavin, flailing his arms in sheer terror at the sight before him for a moment, before toppling backwards from his own momentum and hitting the floor with a resounding crash.

Burnie broke the new silence. “Ryan, how many new friends do you even _have_?” he asked.

“Mostly just these guys,” Ryan admitted. He didn’t really want to tell Burnie about the entire group of college-age theater nerds he interacted with on a regular basis. He had a feeling that would end badly.

Michael had inched out toward the hallway and pulled Gavin by the leg behind the bar. Now they were both peering over the edge, Gavin looking significantly more confused and terrified than Michael.

“What the _bloody_ hell is going on?” he squeaked, his voice cracking slightly.

Ray’s head slid out again. “Ryan’s a demon apparently,” he said. “So’s the new guy.”

“What?”

“You seem to be taking it rather well, Ray,” Ryan remarked.

“No, I’m having an internal panic attack right about now,” Ray said calmly. “I’ve just played enough horror games to keep my hands steady when I’m freaking out.”

A wicked smirk began to appear on Burnie’s face. “Want to see something even scarier?”

“No, I’m good, thanks,” Ray mumbled, his voice muffled to a near-inaudible level due to the fact that he had receded a good six inches under the pinball machine.

Burnie either didn’t hear him or didn’t care and lifted his hands, which promptly burst into flames the same color as his eyes. Gavin yelped and fell over, curling into a ball around Michael’s legs, as a steady stream of curses erupted from the latter’s mouth.

Over the din he was making, Michael just barely heard Ray groan. “First ghosts, now demons with fire hands, what’s next? Werewolves?”

“Stop it, Burnie,” Ryan warned. 

“Or what?” the demon laughed. “You’ll stop me?”

“Nope,” he smirked. “But Jack will.”

Burnie only had a moment to look confused before Ryan stepped aside and Jack stepped forward, wielding the fire extinguisher he kept by the extra cases of beer and dousing Burnie very thoroughly.

“Fuck—fucking—humans—I hate technology!” Burnie spluttered, wiping the foam off his face.

“No smoking in my bar,” Jack deadpanned.

“Fuck you,” Burnie growled, though he backed up when Jack raised the fire extinguisher again threateningly. “Alright, alright, chill! I won’t do it again.” Jack nodded, satisfied, and headed towards the bar.

“Gavin, Michael, you can come out of there,” he said, raising an eyebrow at how Gavin had entwined himself with Michael’s legs. It took a little bit of poking, but eventually both were able to move under their own power and slink out from behind the bar. “Ray?”

“Nope.” The other Lad was so deep into the shadows of the pinball machine that the others could only just make out the white checks on his shoes. Seeing as he wasn’t in the way—was, in fact, about as out of the way as possible while still being in the room—Jack just let him be.

Gavin and Michael sat on barstools next to each other, still giving Burnie scared and wary looks respectively. Gavin kept himself pressed against Michael, still spooked from walking in on Burnie’s display.

Burnie scowled at Jack as he wiped the foam off his glasses. “Your bar, huh?” he asked. Jack nodded tersely. “What’s it called?”

“Not important—”

“The Bearded Banshee,” Ray answered, and Jack groaned.

Burnie laughed. “You named your bar after _yourself_? How weak is that?”

“What?” Michael asked, echoed by Ray and Gavin as Jack glared down the demon.

“I know you’re a demon, but there’s this thing called ‘tact’ that I suggest you look into,” he ground out.

“Tried it, didn’t particularly like it, decided against ever using it again,” Burnie replied cheerfully. “Not my fault you guys keep your friends in the dark.”

“Banshee?” Gavin asked. “Like those ghastly screaming spirits?”

“Kind of,” Ryan said, and Jack glared at him. “Okay, sorry, I’ll let you explain it.”

“I can sense when people are going to die,” Jack explained. “I’ve been able to since I was a teenager. I try not to do the screaming thing, since that tends to make people's ears bleed, but whenever someone's going to die I get a really terrible migraine and kind of an image of who it is and how they die.”

“So, like, you’re psychic, but only with death?” Ray asked. He was gradually emerging from under the pinball machine as the conversation continued; the tops of his shoulders were visible now.

“Pretty much.”

“I thought banshees were a type of ghost,” Michael said.

“Thought wrong,” Burnie said. Jack raised his extinguisher threateningly, and the demon raised his hands in defeat.

“Banshees aren’t ghosts, or even technically spirits,” Jack said. “They’re a type of mortal being—incredibly long-lived, but still mortal. And full banshees are exclusively female, so it’s likely a grandmother or great-grandmother of mine was one, and then passed down the ability.”

“Oh, cool,” Ray said.

Michael looked over at him. “How’s the coming out going, Ray?” he asked.

“About as well as you’d expect.”

“How did you find out you were a banshee, Jack?” Gavin asked.

Jack sighed. “The long version involves a road trip in Geoff’s truck across the greater continental United States, Ryan becoming a demon, all three of us becoming ghost hunters, and having more than a few near-death experiences. The short version is I met a true banshee and she let me in on it.”

Michael blinked at the bartender. “I want to hear that longer version at some point.”

“Noted.”

“Well,” Burnie said, drawing out the word. “Helping you all get all your secrets off your chests has been fun, but I have stuff to do, people to make deals with, other demon stuff. See you around.”

The demon dissolved into a cloud of gray smoke, which streamed toward the door. It stopped suddenly, repelled by a shimmering patch of air just in front of the door, and reformed into a pissed-looking Burnie. Refusing to make eye contact with anyone, he wrenched open the door and stormed out, grumbling about “stupid humans and their dumb wards.”

They stared after him as the door slowly swung shut.

“Demons can _do_ that?” Ryan asked incredulously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. This is the earliest significant thing about Chasing Ghosts. It was one of the first ideas we had for this AU and now it's _here_ and I feel so accomplished. I feel so _good_ about this wow it's crazy. Shit's happening now. AND I got two separate instances of foreshadowing in. Favorite chapter so far, 10/10. -Bookworm
> 
> We worked like crazy to get this out on Halloween and I'm so happy we managed it. Bookworm and I couldn't have done it without each other or our awesome betas! - Abby


	6. Redcoat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Lads and Geoff go on a road trip, making for the longest chapter yet. Needless to say, they’ll never take Geoff seriously again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abby and I were listening to ["In The Woods Somewhere"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sDaGSJpGMmA) by Hozier for a lot of this chapter, so here it is so you can listen too! It's super haunting (hehe).

“Are we th—”

“If you finish that sentence, Ray, I will throw you out of the goddamn truck,” Geoff growled.

“Holy shit, relax. I was going to ask if we were the only people on the road. Delaware is empty as hell, it’s creepy.” Outside the window, all Ray could see was mile upon mile of fields and trees, and an endless-seeming road ahead and behind.

“Hey Geoff, are we there yet?”

“Shut the fuck up, Michael.”

“Delaware’s the first state, isn’t it?” Gavin asked, attempting to change the subject.

“It’s also the same level of dreary as rural Pennsylvania and Ohio,” Michael said. “It’s like driving through fucking purgatory, there’s _nothing._ ”

“Yeah, at least New Jersey had scenery in the forms of used needles and crazies, right, Michael?”

“You really wanna play this game, Ray? You’re from New York City, remember?”

“Point taken.”

It had been about a week since Ryan and Jack had been outed as a demon and a banshee, respectively, and the Lads had been forced to embrace an even wider world than before. After Burnie had left the bar, the two Gents had been questioned long into the night, until Gavin fell asleep on his barstool. Things had been more than a little awkward between them ever since, leading to this roadtrip to the East Coast, which Ray had declared to be “humans only”. No one had really argued, so Michael and Geoff had packed up the truck and they had headed off to investigate whatever strange happenings were going on in Delaware.

After a few more minutes of mild bickering, they all fell into distracted silence: Geoff driving, Gavin looking at footage on one of his cameras, Michael fiddling with his phone, and Ray on his DS kicking the Kanto Elite Four’s collective ass. The only sounds were everyone else breathing, the chainsaw-loud purr of Geoff’s truck against the wind _whoosh_ ing past them, and Gavin occasionally mumbling “oh, that’s top” with his eyes fixed on the camera until Geoff turned on the radio and tuned it to a classic rock station.

The classic rock inevitably led to loud, over-the-top impromptu karaoke sessions, and the Lads discovered just how much Geoff’s voice could crack when he was belting out lyrics at the top of his lungs. There was a drastic change in mood, though, from the songs the Lads knew to the songs only Geoff had even heard of, and the actual song could be heard instead of raucous, off-key shout-singing.

And it wasn’t until they’d crossed the Maryland-Delaware border that Michael looked up from whatever he had been doing on his phone and said, “We should get cheesesteaks.”

“Hm?” Geoff asked, having been only half-listening.

“We should get cheesesteaks,” Michael repeated. “Philadelphia’s only an hour or two out of our way, we could pop in for dinner.”

“I don’t think you can just ‘pop’ into a city like Philadelphia,” Geoff said skeptically.

Michael shrugged. “I did it in high school.”

“We do have a few hours to kill until nightfall,” Ray added. “Let’s go be tourists instead of idiots hunting ghosts.”

“I’d rather fight ghosts with a full stomach, anyways,” Gavin added, and Geoff had to agree with that logic.

“Alright, fine,” Geoff said. “Just cheesesteaks. No museums, or running up those steps from _Rocky._ ”

“Aww, Geoff,” Michael whined, grinning.

Twenty minutes later, instead of taking the exit into Newark, Geoff continued north on the highway toward Philadelphia.

“Hey, Ray,” Michael said.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know what Philadelphia’s called?”

“No, what?”

“It’s the city of brotherly love, dude.”

“Bro.”

“ _Bro._ ”

Michael and Ray started laughing hysterically, causing Geoff to roll his eyes in the driver’s seat. “Get a room, you two.”

“Y’know, I had a dream a couple weeks ago about eating cheesesteaks,” Ray said.

“You have dreams about everything, Ray,” Michael pointed out.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“What sorts of things do you have dreams about?” Gavin asked.

“Oh God, don’t get him started,” Michael groaned.

“Well,” Ray began. “There’s the time I dreamed that I was in a nightclub, in space, and it was serving Taco Bell on silver platters, right? Then The Rock burst in and demanded to know where Ronald McDonald was, because he was wanted for crimes against health and wrestling. I stood up and said ‘this is a Taco Bell, there’s no McDonald’s here.’ But that just made The Rock squint at me and he said, ‘That’s exactly what Ronald McDonald would say!’ and then he attacked me. So I had to fight off The Rock and all the people in the nightclub who were on his side, and I kept yelling ‘I’m Puerto Rican! I’m not Ronald McDonald! Ronald McDonald’s a crusty white clown!’ but they ignored me. So of course, I knew what I had to do. I fought my way up to the turntables and then kicked the DJ’s ass, because he thought I was Ronald McDonald too, and then I blasted ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ through the whole building. Everyone freaked out, but then Ronald McDonald was there and he was dancing, because it’s his favorite song. So by playing it, I had blown his cover, and The Rock arrested him and came to apologize to me as the Intergalactic Health Corps took Ronald McDonald to prison. We shared a giant burrito, it was great.”

Gavin blinked silently at him, shocked speechless.

“What the fuck kind of drugs were you even doing?” Geoff demanded. “No one has dreams like that.”

“I have dreams like that all the time,” Ray said. “There was another one where Britney Spears, Darth Vader, and Scooby-Doo were—”

“Don’t even start,” Geoff said. “Just don’t.”

“Man, I _never_ have cool dreams,” Gavin sighed.

“Let me tell you, it fucks with your sense of reality,” Ray told him.

“Yeah, he’s had to ask me before if Santa Claus was actually the President of Pakistan,” Michael added.

“And if he had seen the Grim Reaper recently, because he stole all my NSYNC CDs,” Ray continued.

“And—”

“We get it,” Geoff said sharply.

They fell back into the silence that occurs when everyone is simply sick of being on the road and of all the forced interaction. Eventually, the highway became a city, and…

“Hey, Geoff, are we there yet?”

“RAY!”

Ray laughed; he loved fucking with Geoff when the older man was driving, because he couldn’t retaliate without risking a crash.

“Actually, we are,” Michael said, looking up from the GPS on his phone. “Go find a parking space or something, Geoff. You can beat up Ray when we get out.”

“Michael, you traitor.”

\---

The small cheesesteak shop was crowded enough that ordering and receiving everyone’s food took the better part of an hour, and finding seats in the upstairs dining area took up the rest.

“How popular even _is_ this place?” Geoff grumbled.

“Very,” Ray said from his seat on Michael’s lap.

“Ray, there’s an empty chair right behind you,” Gavin pointed out.

“Michael’s lap is comfy.”

“Your bony ass isn’t,” Michael complained. “And I gotta eat around you.”

“Too bad, you’re warm and squishy and I’m sitting in your lap.” Ray took a triumphant bite out of his cheesesteak.

“So, Michael,” Geoff said, pointedly ignoring the Lads’ antics. “You found this place. What makes you think it’s a haunting?”

“You’re the one who cleared it,” Michael complained, struggling to eat his cheesesteak around Ray.

“Pop quiz, asshole.”

Michael rolled his eyes, but complied. “First of all, the place is old as shit. The house was built way back in the early 1800’s I think, like 1803 or something.”

“Old as dicks,” Geoff nodded. “Good start, continue.”

“It’s fairly out of the way, too, near a swampy area with not a lot of neighbors. It’s been abandoned for ages, like since the sixties. The last owner died and no one else ever moved in. Whoever owns it now is just holding the land until they can find the time or motivation to tear the fucker down.”

“Abandoned for over fifty years,” Geoff mumbled around a mouthful of his sandwich. “Good, keep goin’.”

“Nothing of interest to report for most of that time,” Michael shrugged. “Until about a year ago, when a couple of high schoolers who broke in looking for some cheap thrills ran into the police station at 3 in the morning, screaming about serial killers.”

“Ghosts or just some nutter squatting in the old place?” Gavin asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, considering that the police searched the place from top to bottom and couldn’t find any evidence that anyone lived there, or had even visited the place within the last month besides footprints from the kids, I’m leaning towards ghosts.” He shoved Ray a few inches to the side so that he could reach his drink.

“A couple of spooked kids a year ago doesn’t warrant a visit,” Geoff pointed out.

Michael rolled his eyes. “I’m getting there, professor, don’t worry.” Geoff squinted at him for a moment, unsure whether he wanted to waste energy on being offended at that or not. “There have been a few incidents since then, nothing major, mostly the same story as the first. Until two weeks ago.”

“What happened then?” Ray asked.

“Three local guys decided that if there was a squatter in that house, they were going to scare him off. So they got some guns and headed over.”

“This _can’t_ end well,” Gavin sighed. Michael shook his head.

“It didn’t. They dicked around for a while, searching the place and yelling threats at thin air, and then one guy decided he was going to check the cellar while the other two searched the kitchen. Cue the horrible screams five minutes later. They rushed their buddy to the hospital, doctors saved his life, yadda yadda yadda. Happy ending for the local idiots. But here’s the thing,” Michael set down his half-finished cheesesteak, looking very serious. “None of the doctors could figure out exactly what had hurt the guy. He had been stabbed in the side, but it didn’t match any typical knife patterns. Until one of them went looking in some really old books and figured it out.”

“What was it?” Ray asked, happily playing along with Michael’s dramatics. 

“A bayonet wound. Specifically, a really old bayonet. Like, one from the early 1800’s.”

“So, what we have is a cranky old soldier,” Geoff summed up. “Lurking around either where he died, where he lived, or where he was buried. Or all three. Someone woke him up and he got pissed about all these kids tracking dirt in. Can’t really say I blame him.”

“Wasn’t the Revolutionary War in like 1800 or something?” Ray asked. “Maybe he was killed in action.”

“You were one of those kids who fell asleep in history class, weren’t you?” Geoff sighed. “Revolutionary War was in the 1770’s, 30 years before the house was even built.”

“Oh.”

Gavin cracked his knuckles, grinning. “Let’s get him, then!”

“We’re all still eating, dumbass,” Michael snapped.

“Maybe if you and Ray weren’t joined at the bloody hip you’d be done eating faster.”

“That’s Ray’s fucking fault!”

“Maybe instead of arguing, you could keep eating?” Ray suggested.

Grumbling, Michael returned to his cheesesteak.

\---

“Y’know, I had this idea in my mind that old houses looked all, like, grand and shit.”

“It’s not a palace,” Geoff agreed, looking up at the plain brick facade. “But they were more built to last and keep the heat in, rather than to please the eye, back then.”

In the fading daylight, the old house looked like the perfect haunt. The brick was worn and weathered, chunks missing from the corners and clear stains from the weather dripping down the walls. It was two stories tall, with a small attic and a basement as well. Most of the windows were broken—no doubt by local kids over the years—and the solitary plank nailed over the front door had been ripped out of one side and now hung at a sad angle down to the porch. All that was missing was a crack of lightning and the rumble of thunder and Michael would declare it perfect for a B-rated horror movie.

“Catch.”

The flashlight Geoff had tossed over hit Michael in the shoulder as he turned away from the house, and he cursed.

“I wasn’t ready!” he defended as the other three snickered at him, bending down to pick it up. The beam flickered unsteadily as he turned it on for a few seconds before stabilizing. “Great, you broke it.”

“You’re the one that didn’t catch it,” Geoff shrugged, passing Ray and Gavin their own flashlights. 

“Yeah, Michael. Getcha head in the game.” Ray grinned devilishly and Michael’s eyes widened in fear.

“If you start singing, I will throw you into the basement and lock the door, I swear to God, Ray.”

“Alright, chill.” Ray looked over at Gavin, and his grin widened. “Hey, Gav, think fast.”

He tossed the flashlight to Gavin, who did not in fact think fast, and instead flailed wildly and squawked as he completely missed the flashlight, and ended up dropping his own as well.

“Booooooo,” Ray and Michael chorused.

“Shut up, Michael, you didn’t catch it either.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t humiliate myself.”

“Okay, calm down, you’re both fucking idiots,” Geoff said. “Let’s catch this ghost.”

“Who you gonna call?” Michael prompted.

“Ghostbusters!” Ray cheered, high-fiving him. Gavin turned hopefully towards Geoff, who rolled his eyes but gave the Brit a high-five as well, much to his obvious joy.

“We’re proper ghost hunters now,” Gavin said. “We’ve gone national.”

“We took a cramped, boring three-day trip to the asscrack of the asscrack of the United States to spend the night in a haunted house, Gav,” Michael said.

“So, yeah, we’re proper ghost hunters,” Ray added.

“I don’t think you can call yourselves ‘national’ until you’ve at least hit both coasts, though,” Geoff pointed out. “Almost-national ghost hunters.”

“Semi-national?” Michael suggested.

“Quasi-national,” Gavin said.

“Another-synonym-for-almost-national.”

“Nailed it, Ray.”

“Thank you, I’ll be here all night.”

“We know, dipshit. We’ll be here, too.”

“You’d fuckin’ better be here,” Geoff grumbled. “You run out on us in the middle of the night and you’re going back to Texas duct-taped to the roof of my truck.”

“Yes, sir, Captain Asshat,” Ray muttered. Geoff narrowed his eyes at him for a long moment before grabbing his camera and heading for the front door, grumbling something about smartass kids into his moustache.

The Lads grabbed their own equipment before following, feeling more than a little trepidation. This was the first haunting they had found where someone had gotten seriously hurt—the other cases they had checked out under Ryan’s supervision back in Texas were all relatively tame in comparison. The worst injury they had come across before this stab-happy spirit was one guy who had broken a finger when a spirit slammed the door closed on his hand. No one was going to die of a broken finger, though. A bayonet to a vital organ was a different story.

The door creaked loudly when Geoff opened it, and the noise echoed into the hall beyond.

“Wow, _someone_ hasn’t seen any action in a few decades,” Ray remarked.

“You mean you, right?” 

Ray gave Michael a betrayed look, but a quick glare from Geoff kept his mouth shut.

“Fan out,” Geoff said. “Don’t actually go into any rooms, and make sure at least one other person can see you at all times.”

“Who made _you_ the boss?” Michael muttered inaudibly. Still, he nodded to Ray, and the two of them ventured off into the kitchen to the left, leaving Gavin with Geoff.

“D’you think the ghost will try to attack us?” he asked.

Geoff shrugged. “Probably, if it fuckin’ stabbed those guys.”

“But those tossers didn’t know what they were up against, so we have a better chance, yeah?”

“Don’t count on it, buddy.” Geoff peeked into a darkened room, swinging the flashlight beam around. “Nothing here.”

“We could go upstairs,” Gavin suggested. “But that’d leave Ray and Michael alone down here.”

“Let’s go ask them about it, then.” Geoff headed back down the hallway. “Hey, Michael? Ray?”

“We’re gonna go upstairs, wanna come with?” Gavin called out.

When no one responded, Gavin glanced at Geoff nervously.

“Bad acoustics?” he offered weakly.

“Doubtful. Come on,” Geoff walked towards the kitchen, scowling. “You assholes better just be playing a joke, or I swear to God—”

He broke off into a panicked shriek as the floor caved in beneath him. Gavin scrambled back, breathing heavily.

“Geoff? You okay?” he called when he heard a quiet groan.

“Oh, my fuckin’ back,” came the pained answer. “I’m too old for this shit!”

“Can you walk?”

“I’m not _that_ old! Of course I can walk.” There was a brief pause, then— “I don’t see any stairs down here, Gav.”

“What?”

“No stairs!” Geoff repeated louder. “No goddamn physical ascending architecture to get me back up there!”

“Well, look around for some, then.”

“What do you think I’m doing, rubbing one out? Of course I’m looking, idiot!”

Gavin sat back from the edge with a bit of a pout. He was only trying to help. “Should I go find a way down from up here?”

“What did I fuckin’ say about keeping an eye on each other?”

“It’s not like you can see—”

Someone screamed, deeper in the house.

“What was _that_?” Geoff called up worriedly.

“One of the others—they’re in trouble!” Gavin scrambled to his feet, ignoring Geoff’s yells to _‘stay put, damnit!’_ and running off to find his Lads.

“Michael?” Gavin called, slowing to a halt… somewhere in the house. The drawing room, maybe. “Ray? Can you hear me?”

He thought maybe he could hear muffled swearing somewhere, but it was so faint he wasn’t sure if he had imagined it or not. “Michael?”

The hair on the back of his neck stood up and a chill ran down his spine. He fumbled to turn his camera on, swinging around to film the space behind him. “Hello? Mr., uh, Ghost, sir? Or lady? Please don’t kill my mates.”

Gavin stared at his screen as he swung it around, looking for the cold spot. His heart jumped into his throat when he saw it—the ghost was built like a wrestler, with broad shoulders and a strong stance, and judging by the way it was standing, Gavin felt it was likely that it was poised to run him through with that bayonet. He stumbled back, yelling what was supposed to be an eloquent declaration of peace, but what sounded more like “no no please don’t stab me oh God.”

Through some force of sheer will combined with a lot of luck, his camera stayed up so that he could watch the ghost. It seemed to shiver, wavering on screen, and dissipated slightly. Someone—Ray, it sounded like—yelled again in another part of the house, and Gavin reflexively looked away from his camera, towards the noise. When he looked back, the ghost seemed to have vanished.

An icy breeze brushed over his hands, and words so faint he almost convinced himself they hadn’t been said— _“For King and country, men!”_ —were whispered as the entire screen turned a freezing blue.

Gavin was scared to even breathe as he waited for the ghost to attack again. When nothing happened, he exhaled shakily and examined his camera. The screen had returned to normal, except for a faint tint of the same blue as before. The camera suddenly began beeping rapidly, and Gavin yelped. He did a cursory check of the camera’s battery power, which would normally cause beeping if the battery was low, but it was almost full.

“Stop it, then,” he told it crossly. “There’s nothing wrong with you, stop beeping!”

Abruptly, it did.

“... What?” This was, for sure, a first—usually when he yelled at technology, it did exactly the opposite of what he wanted.

“Did…” Gavin swallowed. “Did you just listen to me?”

The camera didn’t respond.

“Er… beep once for yes?”

The camera beeped once.

“Are you the ghost?”

_Beep._

“Why’d you attack me?”

_BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP_

“Alright, alright, stop!” Gavin said hurriedly. “Yes or no questions only, I got it.”

The camera stopped its frenzied beeping and Gavin sighed in relief. “One for yes, two for no, okay?”

_Beep._

“Do you know where my friends are?”

The camera didn’t respond and Gavin’s heart leapt to his throat. “Did you hurt them?”

Still no response. “My friends,” Gavin repeated forcefully. “The other people here. Did you hurt them?”

_Beep._

“Why? Did they do something wrong?”

_Beep._

“What? Coming here?”

_Beep. Beep._

“You’re...not angry that we came here, into your home?”

_Beep. Beep._

“Then what is it?” Gavin said frustratedly. “Did we bring something that upset you?”

_Beep._

“What is it? The cameras?” The questions went on for several minutes, with Gavin listing off all of their equipment and getting a resounding ‘no’ to each option.

Gavin sighed. “Okay, this isn’t working.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “I need to find something that’ll let you respond with something other than yes or no.” He typed ‘Morse Code’ into the search bar, and pulled up the first picture he found.

He held up the phone in front of the camera lens. “Can you see this?”

_Beep._

“Use it to tell me what’s wrong.”

For a few seconds, the ghost was silent. Then…

_P-R-I-S-O-N-E-R_

“Prisoner?” Gavin repeated, having followed along with the slow translation. “You’re being kept prisoner? By who?”

_N-O-Y-O-U_

“I’m… the prisoner?” Gavin frowned. “How’d you figure?”

_E-N-G-L-I-S-H_

“What’s that got to do with anything?” 

_W-A-R_

“Did you die in a war?”

_Y-E-S-C-O-L-O-N-I-E-S_

“The American revolution? That was centuries ago.” Gavin shook his head slightly. “It’s not 1776 anymore, mate. It’s the 21st century. America has been its own country for ages.”

_1-7-7-7_

“Oh. Sorry.”

_C-O-L-O-N-I-S-T-S-F-R-I-E-N-D-S-?_

“Yeah, the Americans are my friends. Geoff, Michael, and Ray.”

_Y-O-U-R-N-A-M-E_

“Gavin. What’s yours?”

_D-A-N-I-E-L_

“Nice to meet you, Dan,” Gavin said cheerfully. “Would you mind telling me where the others are?”

_L-O-U-D-O-N-E-B-E-D-R-O-O-M._

“Loud one? Probably Michael.”

_S-M-A-L-L-O-N-E-P-L-A-N-T-R-O-O-M._

“Ray would be offended if you called him small to his face,” Gavin grinned. “Plant room? Like a greenhouse, I bet.”

_B-E-E-R-O-N-E-C-E-L-L-A-R._

Gavin had to laugh at that. “Three seconds with Geoff and you already have him pinned. And he’s _still_ stuck down there?”

_Y-E-S_

Gavin thought Dan sounded smug, though he could have imagined it. “Come on, then, let’s go round everyone up. The bedrooms are upstairs, right?”

_Y-E-S_

Gavin made his way back through the house and up the stairs to the second floor. “Michael? Can you hear me?”

“Gavin?” Michael’s voice, slightly muffled, came from a door just ahead and to the right. “Oh thank god, I was about to chew my own leg off just so that I could beat the door down with it.”

“Don’t be gross, Michael!”

“Get me out of here and I won’t be!”

“Alright, fine.” The door swung open easily under Gavin’s hand, causing Michael to make a frustrated noise.

“I was trying to open this fuckin’ thing for ages and you barely touch it and it opens?!” he complained as he walked out in a huff. “What bullshit!”

“I’ve just got friends you don’t,” Gavin held up the camera with a grin.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” he demanded, but Gavin turned away.

“Come on, Ray is stuck in the greenhouse.”

“There’s a _greenhouse_ in this place too?”

\---

It took a little bit of searching to find the right door, but eventually they did. The wood looked so old and rotted that Gavin was surprised it was still standing at all—though Dan might have had something to do with that, he supposed.

“Ray?”

“Oh, holy shit, you found me,” he answered, voice getting more clear as he moved towards the door. “Finally.”

“How the fuck did you end up here?” Michael asked.

“Ah, you know me, bro. I’m just drawn to the green stuff.” There was a pause. “You know. Weed.”

“No shit.”

“But yeah can you let me out of here, it smells like shit.”

“Fertilizer, probably,” Gavin said. He opened the door, which, like the bedroom door, opened easily. Ray strolled out, a smudge of dirt on his cheek, and Michael pulled him into a brief hug.

Ray accepted it, but not without whispering “no homo” in Michael’s ear, which earned him a shove into the wall. “So where’s Geoff?” he asked.

“In a hole,” Gavin said casually. “He got stuck.”

Ray blinked at him. “I’ve gotten to the point where I accept this without question, so, lead on.”

Gavin didn’t have to do anything, however, because at that moment an ear-splitting scream rang through the air, causing all of them to jump slightly. Gavin immediately ran towards the kitchen, Ray and Michael close behind.

“Geoff!” Gavin called, skidding to a stop before the hole in the floor. 

“SNAKE!” was the response he got, “IT’S A FUCKING SNAKE, FUCKING SHIT ON MY DICK I DON’T NEED THIS!”

“Geoff, I found Ray and Michael.”

“DO EITHER OF THEM HAVE A LADDER BECAUSE IF NOT I DON’T GIVE A— _THERE’S TWO!”_ Geoff was reaching pitches none of the Lads had thought it was entirely possible for a grown man to reach.

“Weirdest game of Snakes and Ladders ever,” Ray muttered. Michael gave him a fist bump, chuckling.

“FUCKING GET ME _OUT_ OF HERE!”

“Alright, keep your shirt on, Geoffrey,” Gavin said, looking around for anything he could lower down to the older man.

By the time he had found anything even partially suitable, Michael was on his stomach with his arms down in the hole. “Geoff, just fuckin’ jump. I’ve lifted way heavier things before.”

“Was that a fat comment, Jones? And fuck no, you’re going to drop me!”

“I said like five times I wouldn’t! Do you want to get away from the snakes or not?”

Michael grunted as Geoff jumped and held Michael’s wrists in a vice grip. “Yeah, no, I need you to slide your hands down so I can hold them, otherwise I won’t be able to pull you up.”

“Gaaaaaay,” Ray added from where he was leaning against the wall.

“Shut the fuck up, Ray.”

With a sharp jerk, Michael half-sat up and slowly rose the rest of the way, heaving Geoff out of the hole. Eventually, both men were panting on the floor of the kitchen.

“Alright, Geoff? Michael?” Gavin asked, kneeling down next to them.

“Fine,” Michael said shortly, rubbing the sweat off of his forehead with his sleeve.

“Geoff?”

“I’m good,” he answered. “Just...I really hate snakes, guys.”

“We noticed,” Ray said dryly. “Good to hear your balls dropped back down, too.”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Ray.”

He just grinned and wandered over to the hole, shining his flashlight down. “Seriously, Geoff? That’s what you were freaking out about?” Ray laughed. “Fucking _garter snakes_?”

Gavin looked over the edge and had to suppress a giggle. Sure enough, two small, green snakes could just barely be seen, their heads poking out from under a wood plank.

“They look scarier when you’re alone in the dark,” Geoff grumbled. “There are some really poisonous snakes in this area, you know! Like copperheads and timber rattlers! I was—I was just being cautious!”

“Sure,” Ray snickered. “Sounding like a small child in the process of being cautious is all part of the plan, right?”

“Hey, in most animals bright coloring means danger.”

“Geoff, most highly venomous snakes are either red, black, or brown.”

“Look, just. Let’s just go take care of this ghost.”

“Already done!” Gavin said cheerfully, holding up his camera. “Say hi, Dan!”

_H-E-L-L-O-C-O-L-O-N-I-S-T-S_

“Was that… Morse Code?” Michael asked.

“Yep,” Gavin said. “No idea what he said, I need to get the guide back up on my phone, but I’m sure it was nice.”

“The ghost knows Morse Code?”

“Yeah, I taught him after he got stuck in my camera and could only communicate in beeps.”

Geoff gave Gavin a long look, then shook his head and headed for the door. “I’m not even going to question this shit anymore. I’m tired, I’m cold, my shoes are wet because I stepped in a puddle down there, my back hurts, and I just want to go to bed.”

“Uh-oh, guys, Grandpa’s complaining again,” Ray muttered.

“I heard that, you ass!” Geoff turned and glared at him. “The roof is still open for that three-day drive, remember?”

“With surprising clarity.” They stared at each other for a moment, then Geoff walked towards the truck again and the Lads followed, Michael and Ray both questioning Gavin about his new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, cutting it kinda close with the timing there. But it's done!
> 
> See you in two weeks, where we find out what Ryan's been up to while all these shenanigans were happening, and a whole _cast_ of new characters are introduced! See what I did there? No? You will next chapter. :D
> 
> \- Bookworm


	7. Spectral Saboteur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we have a little intermission with Ryan and a coffee maker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, this chapter has pictures in it! Wow, so cool!

“Honestly, guys, I’m just disappointed,” Ryan sighed, regarding the two in front of him with an air of long suffering.

“Technically, it wasn’t my fault,” Kerry said, refusing to meet Ryan’s eyes.

“I’d be disappointed in us, too,” Miles admitted, earning an elbow to his ribcage from Kerry. “I think this is, what, the fifth time?”

“Seventh,” Ryan corrected, shaking his head. “Most people would regard one time as enough of a lesson, you know.”

“I’ve always been a slow learner,” Kerry said, trying to shrug but just wincing as he banged the back of his head against the ladder. 

“So, what happened this time?”

“Miles said—”

Ryan held up his hand, cutting Kerry off. He already knew where this was going—it was the reason behind three of the other times Kerry had gotten his head stuck in one of the industrial ladders backstage, that they would admit to at least. He was suspicious that Miles was actually behind five of them.

“Miles, congratulations,” he said flatly. “You’re in charge of cleaning up after the light crew for the next month.”

“But, Ryan,” Miles tried protesting—the lighting people were _horrible_ about picking up after themselves, it would take ages to do—however, as the director, Ryan had final say. He skulked away, muttering under his breath about the unfairness of it all.

“Kerry,” Ryan said, sighing again, “You have _got_ to stop listening to him when it comes to places to put your head.”

The younger man gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Ryan. He’s really persuasive.”

“He’s also awful at thinking things through.”

“Yeah.” Both were quiet for a moment. “Can you get me out of here, now? Please?”

“Yeah.” Ryan began maneuvering the ladder around Kerry’s limbs, and had just freed the younger man when Miles stuck his head back in.

“By the way, Josh has been complaining about the coffee maker not working again.”

Ryan sighed. “I’ll come take a look.” The dumb thing had been acting up for weeks now, leaving everyone at the theater a bit more grouchy than usual, though it was an excellent excuse to get some of the younger, more hyperactive people out from under everyone’s feet by sending them on coffee runs. For whatever reason, the coffee maker would now only work when Ryan fiddled with it.

“Do you need any help with the coffee maker, Ryan?” Kerry offered as he folded up the ladder.

Ryan shook his head. “The last time you tried to help, you got soaked in burning coffee.”

“True. Have fun with that, then.”

The kitchen was empty when Ryan walked in; with a broken coffee maker and the dysfunctional eating habits of college students, there wasn’t much reason for anyone to currently be in there. He approached the coffee maker and stared at it sternly.

“Are you going to actually show yourself today, or is this more of the same?” he asked.

_“Nnnnope.”_

Ryan blinked at the disembodied voice. He had known for a while now that a ghost of some kind was the source of the problem, but he had never been able to investigate further, let alone actually communicate with it.

“So you’re talking now?”

_“Nope.”_

“I can hear you talking!”

_“It’s a ghoooooost.”_

Ryan rolled his eyes. “ _You’re_ a ghost.”

_“... Shit.”_

“So why have you been breaking the coffee maker?”

_“Gotta have some form of entertainment.”_

“This is literally a place of entertainment! It’s a theater, how much more entertainment do you need?”

_“Apparently more than you can provide.”_

“Wow, no need for the sass.”

_“Being dead is unbelievably boring.”_

Ryan snorted. “Don’t have to tell me.”

_“Are you dead?”_ the ghost asked curiously. _“You don’t look much like a zombie.”_

“I’m alive, but I’ve had… experience with not being alive.”

_“That sure is an uninformative answer.”_

“And you’re a random ghost that keeps breaking my coffee maker!”

_“Yeah, entertainment, remember? College students deprived of caffeine are hilarious.”_

“There are about five coffee shops within a few blocks,” Ryan pointed out. “You’re not depriving them of caffeine, you’re depriving them of time and money.”

_“Still hilarious.”_

“You’re an ass.”

_“No, I’m a disembodied voice, keep up. You’re a bit slow, aren’t you?”_

“Hey Ryan, who are you talking to?”

Ryan turned around to see Miles and Kerry (of course they were together, they’re joined at the hip) peering into the kitchen. It was Miles who had spoken.

“The ghost that’s haunting the coffee maker,” Ryan answered.

“Oh, okay. Cool.” Theater kids will accept everything, especially Ryan’s theater kids.

_“You’re just fantastic at keeping secrets,”_ the ghost said dryly.

“And you’re apparently really good at breaking coffee makers,” Miles replied.

_“Yep.”_

“Can you stop that?” Kerry asked hopefully. “It’s expensive to buy coffee all the time.”

_“Maybe.”_

Ryan’s phone beeped like a Kimmunicator, both signaling a text from Ray and causing Miles and Kerry to scream “WHAT’S THE SITCH?” and collapse into giggles as Ryan sighed, pulling it out.

Not only was it in fact a text from Ray, it was a selfie as well. He was apparently sitting among a bunch of plants, a smudge of dirt on his cheek, looking bored out of his mind.

Miles cleared his throat. “So, uh… who’re ya texting?”

“An idiot,” Ryan sighed. “Who has willingly put himself in danger with three other idiots.”

Kerry frowned and counted something out on his fingers. “But Miles and I are here.”

“Not idiots here, different idiots,” Ryan said. “Idiots who think they can hunt ghosts.”

“I thought we were your only idiots,” Kerry said, looking mildly hurt.

“Ryan, are you _cheating_ on us?” Miles asked, looking betrayed.

_“Ghost hunting?”_ the ghost asked.

“Well, less hunting and more talking,” Ryan admitted, ignoring the other two. “They’ve just been making friends with all of them, honestly.”

_“Oh, I like them already.”_

“You be quiet, they’re in danger right now.”

“Are they going to be okay?” Kerry asked.

“Probably,” Ryan said. “They’re both lucky and incredibly overdramatic.” His phone beeped again.

Ryan rolled his eyes at the text. “Yeah, they’re fine. Probably.” He looked pointedly at Miles. “Don’t you have some cleaning to do?”

Miles groaned loudly. “No, because no one who actually does lighting was even here today.”

_“I could make a mess for him to clean up,”_ the ghost offered.

Ryan turned his glare to the coffee maker. “Don’t you dare, there’s enough of a mess from the living people.”

_“Says you.”_

“And says me,” Miles added. “I’ll be the biggest mess-maker around here, thank you very much.”

_“Is that a challenge?”_

“No,” Ryan said firmly. “It’s not.”

“So what’s your name?” Kerry asked, attempting to change the subject. “I’m Kerry, my sidekick is Miles, and you probably know the killjoy is Ryan.”

“Killjoy?” Ryan protested.

At the same time, Miles said, “Sidekick? I’m not your sidekick, you’re my sidekick.”

“By what reasoning?”

“I’m taller!”

Kerry squinted up at Miles, who was, in fact, a good few inches taller. “... Fine.”

“It’s okay, you’re a good sidekick.”

“Thanks, man.”

The ghost coughed, or at least made a noise similar to coughing due to the fact that he didn’t actually have a throat. Or lungs. _“My name’s Jon.”_

“Is that with an H?” Miles asked.

_“No, Hs are for losers,”_ Jon said, sounding offended.

“Don’t you two have lines to rehearse?” Ryan prompted. “Or a set to paint?”

Miles pouted slightly. “You mean you don’t keep us around for our dashing good looks and sparkling personalities?”

“Go,” Ryan said sternly. The two muttered goodbyes to the ghost as they walked out.

_“You know, you’re kind of hard on them,”_ Jon observed.

“They’re getting school credit for hanging out under my feet all day, I think they can handle it,” Ryan rolled his eyes. “So, you have two options here.”

_“Which are?”_

“One, you stop breaking the coffee maker and bothering my cast and crew in general. Two, you leave. Willingly or forcefully.”

_“Or, three, I keep doing what I’ve been doing and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”_

Ryan gave the coffee maker an unimpressed look. “My friends go looking for ghosts for _fun_ and I usually go along to help them. I can very easily get rid of you if you continue as you are.”

_“Why haven’t you done it yet, then?”_ Jon challenged.

“Because I believe in the art of negotiation. But if you insist on being difficult…” Ryan ignited his eyes, _felt_ them burning icy blue. “I will have no problem overpowering you.”

The ghost was silent for a good ten seconds. Finally, Jon said, _“I_ guess _I can stop bothering everyone. For the most part, anyway.”_

Ryan let his eyes return to normal. He hadn't expected that to work nearly as well as it did. “Good. Now shoo, so I can fix this coffee maker.”

He saw a vaguely human-shaped figure move past him and out of the kitchen—Jon, presumably—and turned to the coffee maker to diagnose what was wrong with it this time.

The machine’s only issue seemed to be a clogged valve. Ryan scooped the debris out with no small amount of irritation; to think a group of _adults_ couldn’t figure out how to do such a simple thing.

He was just replacing the top when his phone buzzed again, and he was pulling it out when the stage manager, Mariel, stuck her head into the kitchen.

“What’s the sitch?” she asked, smirking.

Ryan groaned. “Not you too!”

“I refuse to ignore the training of my childhood,” Mariel said, fully entering the kitchen. “Seriously though, what’s up?”

“Well, the coffee maker works again.”

“Hallelujah!”

“And I take it you’ve heard the news about the ghost,” Ryan continued.

“Yeah, Miles and Kerry were making the rounds telling everyone.”

“Not surprised,” Ryan grumbled.

Mariel raised an eyebrow. “You know they make this theater about twenty times more exciting.”

“I know,” Ryan sighed. “I’m just not sure if I like it.”

Mariel grinned. “Yeah, ‘cause you’re an old man.”

“I’m not that old!”

“You’re crotchety enough to add, like, thirty years.”

Ryan’s protests were interrupted by a loud crash. He knew it was Miles and Kerry, he just knew it.

“Duty calls,” Mariel sang, sauntering out of the kitchen. “I’ll meet you at ground zero.”

Ryan looked at the text from Ray before leaving.

Ryan smiled slightly. Of _course_ Gavin and Michael would start arguing in a moving car. He felt bad for Geoff, honestly, having to deal with it. It was funnier when he wasn’t actually there.

Ryan slipped his phone back into his pocket and left the kitchen, wondering what on earth Miles and Kerry had done this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit short this update, but next time should be pretty big!
> 
> Speaking of updates though, we're putting out a call for artists who'd be willing to draw some occasional pictures! Mainly for things like the selfie Ray sends in this chapter, which wouldn't happen that often (or maybe it would happen more, this is Ray we're talking about). We don't really want to ask too much, since we don't have a way to pay anyone. But if someone does want to contribute, it would be another layer of life added to this AU!
> 
> Those text screenshots though, uuuugggggghhhh. If anyone knows of a good text generator PLEASE let us know because the only ones I've found have made for some really messed up pictures that cut off the bottom of all the conversations, hence the messiness of the second picture in particular.
> 
> We can be contacted at [my tumblr](http://thebookwormbakery.tumblr.com) and [Abby's tumblr](http://butim-justharry.tumblr.com), and of course down in the comments! See you all in two weeks! -Bookworm


	8. Chasing Cats On A Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ray gets himself into a _hairy _situation.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo, another long one! this is also a Super Important chapter, it was one of the first ones planned. And to think there are still so many characters that have yet to be introduced...
> 
> [ Ray's Playlist](http://8tracks.com/darthabby/the-roadtrip-from-hell)

“Michael, wake up.”

Michael rolled over in the bed, ignoring Ray. Since when did Ray even wake up before _noon_ , let alone before Michael?

“Michael come on, don’t ignore me.”

“Mmnfuck off,” Michael grumbled. Ray was silent, and Michael was just dumb enough to think that maybe Ray had left, and would let him sleep a while longer.

Then he felt Ray climb onto the bed and begin jumping. “Michael. Michael. Michael. Michael Michael Michael Michael Michael Michael—”

“Jesus fucking Christ, _what, Ray!?_ ” Michael finally relented and threw a pillow at him.

Ray ducked the pillow in a surprising show of agility and sat down on the bed. “Shit’s going down in Los Angeles.”

“Define shit.”

“Well, it’s like this brown chunk that comes out your ass made of all the food you couldn’t digest—”

“Oh my fucking god did you wake me up just to troll me.”

“No, no, hang on. For the past few months, people have been reporting their dumpsters being raided, hearing horrible noises in the middle of the night, and their pets being hurt.”

“I bet it’s just horny cats.”

“No, the—wait, what?”

Michael sat up to more easily continue the conversation. “Have you ever heard cats gettin’ it on, dude? It sounds like a fucking murder.”

“What about the raided dumpsters?”

“Post-coital munchies?”

“Injured pets, Michael. Explain that one with horny cats.”

“I’m not about to start shaming feline kinks, Ray.”

“Jesus Christ, dude.”

Michael sighed. “Look, I don’t fucking know, all right? If you want to go visit L.A. so badly, just talk to everyone else about it and try to convince ‘em. Good luck with that.” He laid back down, ignoring the motions he felt as Ray moved closer to him on the bed.

“Hot celebrities, Michael,” Ray whispered into his ear, making him jump. “Just think of all those hot celebrities you’ll get to see.”

“Ray, get out of my ear.”

“Hot, totally bangable celebrities,” Ray continued. “Just a couple of days of driving away.”

“If I say yes, will you get your nasty hot breath outta my face?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then fine, I’ll go. Get the fuck off of me, why are you even up so early.”

“Oh, I’m not, I was up all night.”

“Fucking hell, Ray.”

- 

“—fucking act like he knows everything, then I’m gonna give him bullshit help!” the dark-haired man grouched as Ray entered. “He called _me_ and he wants to bitch as if I’m wasting _his_ time.”

Geoff nodded in his seat next to the man. “Customer service is hell, Gus.”

“Hey, Geoff,” Ray said. “I think there’s something we could go look at in L.A.”

“And the ghost bullshit is my cue to leave,” Gus said. “Thanks for the beer, Geoff.”

“Later.” Geoff waved as his friend left.

“Who was that?” Ray asked.

“Friend of mine,” Geoff said. “He avoids ghost stuff like the plague. Says it makes everything way too complicated.”

“He’s not wrong,” Jack added, entering from the back room. “What’s this about Los Angeles?”

“Raided dumpsters, horrible screaming sounds, injured pets.” Ray sat on a barstool. “I think it’s something that goes bump in the night.”

Jack nodded. “It’s possible.”

The door burst open, and Michael walked in to sit next to Ray. “Or it could be horny cats.”

“What about the injured pets?” Geoff asked.

“Michael thinks cats have biting kinks,” Ray scoffed, scrolling through an article on his phone. “It’s not just cats that were injured. Birds, guinea pigs, even dogs as big as greyhounds and St. Bernards. Something _big_ caused this.”

“Definitely something big,” Jack agreed. “And something worth checking out.”

“Yes!” Ray punched the air with both hands. “Road trip!”

Ryan pushed the back door open with one foot, walking out with a tray of glasses. “Road trip to where?”

“L.A.,” Michael sighed. “Ray wants to chase down some horny cats.”

Ryan blinked. “Horny… cats?”

“Raided dumpsters, horrible screaming sounds, injured pets,” Ray repeated.

“In the suburbs outside L.A.,” Michael added.

“What’s outside L.A., boi?” Gavin asked, breezing through the door with a twinkle of the chimes.

Ray groaned, not wanting to repeat it. He lowered his head onto the varnished wood of the bar. “Stuff,” he said shortly.

“Horny cats, apparently,” Ryan said, setting the glasses down.

“Thanks, Ryan,” Jack said. He began putting the glasses away.

Gavin peered over Ray’s shoulder to look at the younger man’s phone. “Raided dumpsters, horrible screaming sounds, and injured pets?”

“Yeah,” Ray muttered, his voice muffled by the bar.

“Could it be one of those chococadabra things?” Gavin asked.

“A chupacabra?” Ryan corrected.

“Yeah, one of them.”

“It’s possible,” Jack mused. “Southern California is in the typical chupacabra range.”

“I still think it’s horny cats,” Michael said.

“But you want to come, right?” Ray asked.

Michael sighed. “Yeah, I want to come.”

“I’m coming too,” Gavin said.

“And me,” Geoff added. “I’m not passing up L.A.”

“After the Dan incident, I think someone other than Geoff should come as well,” Jack said.

Ryan looked at Jack. “Do you think your backup can handle the bar for a few days?”

Jack nodded. “Tyler knows how to run everything.”

“Yeah, there’s just one problem with everyone coming,” Geoff said. “My truck only holds four people.”

- 

“What in the name of all that is good in the world is _this_?”

Geoff stared at the battered van with a mixture of disbelief and revulsion.

“This,” Ray said proudly, “Is the Mystery Machine.”

Something shifted inside the van’s inner workings, causing a metallic clang not unlike an awkward cough in a silent room.

“We are _not_ calling it the Mystery Machine,” Michael said.

“Why not?”

“For one thing, this looks more like a van full of candy that mothers tell their kids to avoid like the plague,” Ryan said.

“It was the cheapest large vehicle Ray and I could find on short notice, all right?” Jack sighed.

Gavin wandered around to the back of the van. “Is this rusted shut?” he asked, kicking at the doors.

Geoff threw up his hands. “You bought a rust bucket held together with duct tape and prayers.”

“There are some zip ties in there too!” Ray protested.

“How is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Gavin pulled on the doors and they sprang open easily, causing him to yelp. “Oh, it actually looks cool in here.”

Michael joined him, peering into the van. “Holy shit, you literally got the Mystery Machine.” Leather bench seats lined the sides of the van up to the front seats, which made a wall between the front and back of the vehicle.

“So are we going to call it that now?” Ray asked.

“Hell yeah.”

Ryan joined the two younger men at the back of the van and wrinkled his nose. “It certainly smells like a creep’s candy van.”

Gavin leaned into the interior to sniff the air, and immediately recoiled, gagging. “It smells like arse!”

Ray gave the van a cursory sniff. “Nah, that’s just weed.”

Geoff shook his head. “Oh. Great. You bought a van that is not only barely held together, but also smells like drugs. I have no idea why I’m even surprised by this.”

“Look, are we going after the chupa-thingy or not?” Ray frowned at them. 

There was some more muttered complaints, but soon enough everyone was settled into the van, with Jack and Geoff claiming seniority and taking the driver and passenger seats over the benches. Ray claimed a spot on the bench as close to the front as possible, and handed a cord to Geoff when they got moving. “Hey, plug this in for me.”

Geoff did, and Ray implemented his master plan.

The master plan consisted of a lengthy playlist, contributed to in part by everyone (knowingly or otherwise), but mostly by Ray, as evidenced by the disproportionate amount of music from the 90s and early 2000s.

“How do you even know so many horrible songs?” Geoff moaned when _Wonderwall_ began playing.

“It’s a gift,” Ray said. “A gift that I use purely for evil purposes.”

Michael looked up from his DS. He was attempting (in vain) to block out the music with Pokemon. “You seem to have a lot of those.”

“Yeah, well, you would know, wouldn’t you?”

Everything sort of just dissolved into all-out squabbling from there, with Michael and Ray teaming up against Gavin, Ryan switching sides at the drop of a hat, and Geoff yelling as he was fooled into thinking _Ice Ice Baby_ was _Under Pressure._

Jack’s eye twitched slightly and he wondered if he could get away with vehicular manslaughter.

- 

Ray all but fell out of the van and stretched himself on the ground, groaning as his stiff muscles finally started to relax.

Michael collapsed next to him with a _thud_. “Never again,” he moaned.

Gavin joined the other Lads on the hot asphalt. “I’m sore in places I didn’t know I could be sore in.”

“You can’t end a sentence with a preposition, Gavin.” Ryan stretched lazily, somehow immune to the effects of the bench seats.

“Sod off, Ryan,” Gavin grumbled.

“You’re going to have to endure the seats at least one more time for the return trip,” Jack said.

“Or, you know, you could replace them with actual good seats that don’t make me feel like I got run over by a fucking truck _before_ we go back to Austin,” Michael complained.

“Hey, take it up with Ray, he’s the one who picked the damn thing out,” Jack defended.

“I regret _everything_ ,” Ray groaned.

“Cheer up, guys,” Geoff said. “Look, you can see the Hollywood sign.”

Gavin at least perked up at that, though he pouted when he saw it was minuscule from where they were. “Geoffrey, it’s tiny!”

“Yeah, like your dick,” Michael snorted.

“Get shit on, Gavin,” Ray said. Sensing another full-on Lad fight approaching, Jack intervened.

“Ray, where’s the general area of the reports? We need to check it out a bit before night falls.”

“Inside a massage parlor, where we can all recover from the Hell ride,” Ray deadpanned.

“A-fucking-men,” Michael mumbled, high-fiving Ray.

“Out in the suburbs to the north,” Ryan said.

“Okay, short break guys, then we’ll head over there,” Geoff said, clapping his hands together authoritatively as the Lads all protested. They shut up fairly quickly when they were allowed to pick where to go for food, though. Ray hopefully suggested Taco Bell, but was overruled in favor of In-N-Out.

“Maybe I _want _shitty Mexican food, though,” Ray pointed out.__

__“One, you’re fuckin’ weird, and two, you can find a Taco Bell pretty much anywhere,” Michael said. “We’re not eating _Taco Bell_ in Los Angeles.”_ _

__“Yeah, whatever,” Ray grumbled. “I’m not gonna enjoy it.”_ _

__Ray enjoyed his burger despite himself, and they all reluctantly piled into the Mystery Machine again to investigate Ray’s case._ _

__“People are definitely going to think we’re kidnappers,” Ryan said. “Driving into a neighborhood at night in an old, unmarked van. We’re going to get arrested.”_ _

__“Shhhhh,” Ray said, staring down at the EMF meter. After a few moments, he looked up. “There’s definitely no ghosts around right now.”_ _

__“How about horny cats?”_ _

__“Well shit, let me just get out my horny-cat-o-meter, Michael.”_ _

__“Didn’t we already say we thought it was a… what was it? Chimichanga?” Gavin asked._ _

__“ _Chupacabra,_ ” Jack corrected him for what felt like the hundredth time. “Yes, we did, but it’s always a good idea to not rule anything out.”_ _

__“Maybe it’ll be a spirit that possesses toys and we’ll have to fight Buzz Lightyear with unusually functional laser blasters,” Ray said._ _

__The silence that followed was all but tangible._ _

__“ _What?_ ” Geoff burst out._ _

__Ray shrugged. “Had a dream about it a few weeks ago. You were there too, Geoff, but you only spoke Russian for some reason.”_ _

__“Shut up, Ray.” Michael rolled his eyes. “Go find your horny-cat-o-meter or something.”_ _

__“Okay, fine.” Ray climbed out of the van, closing the door behind him. The others exchanged meaningful looks._ _

__“We should follow him, right?” Ryan said._ _

__“Yeah, probably,” Michael agreed._ _

__Climbing out of the van found Ray had disappeared _again_ in an alarmingly short amount of time._ _

__“I need to put a bell on him or something,” Michael grumbled._ _

__“Maybe he went into through the gate that’s swinging open over there,” Ryan said, pointing._ _

__Geoff scowled at him. “Fuckin’ lead the way, Sherlock.”_ _

__Ryan turned on his flashlight and led the other four through the gate._ _

__“You know,” Jack said pointedly, “If you three hadn’t started bickering we would have actually had some daylight to look around.”_ _

__“Yeah, well, sucks to suck, Jack,” Gavin scowled._ _

__“That doesn’t even—”_ _

__“Hey, check this out,” Ryan said, cutting off the other Gent and dropping down to look at something on the ground._ _

__Geoff clicked on his own flashlight and squinted at the dirt. “A paw print?”_ _

__“I _knew_ it was cats.”_ _

__“It’s too big to be a domestic cat,” Ryan shook his head at Michael’s words. “It’d have to be a mountain lion or something.”_ _

__“You mean like a puma?” Geoff asked._ _

__“Yeah, same thing.”_ _

__“It could just be a big dog, too,” Jack said. “Or a—”_ _

__There was a crashing noise, the sound of breaking glass, and a quiet curse that sounded suspiciously familiar. Michael immediately ran towards the sound, skidding around the corner and whisper-yelling._ _

__“Ray! Did you break a fucking window?”_ _

__“...no?”_ _

__Michael sighed heavily as the others walked over. “He’s inside,” he said quietly, gesturing towards the shattered window by the back door. “I don’t want to go in and make things worse, though.”_ _

__“Uh, guys?” Ray suddenly spoke up nervously. “I think there’s a dog—there is _totally_ a dog in here, it’s growling, shit shit shit.”_ _

__“Ray, get out of there!” Geoff said worriedly._ _

__“I’m _trying_ , it’s not like—oh my god that’s a big dog.”_ _

__“Ryan, do something,” Michael urged, but the demon just shook his head._ _

__“A dog isn’t more dangerous than whatever is out here, I’m not leaving you guys alone against some creature that we don’t even—”_ _

__“OH, _FUCK_!”_ _

__Jack, Geoff, and Michael all scrambled through the window at Ray’s shout of pain and terror, tumbling into the house without paying attention to all the broken glass. Michael got to his feet first, ready to kick in the teeth of whatever mutt had hurt his best friend, but stopped short at the unexpected sight before him._ _

__Ray was leaning against the wall, a steady stream of profanity being whispered as he held his arm tightly, blood seeping out from between his fingers. A tall man stood in front of him, apologizing nonstop and apparently torn between watching Ray and going to get him something to stop the bleeding._ _

__“What the _fuck _?” Michael demanded as Geoff and Jack stood up next to him.___ _

____The man turned around with a start, seemingly unaware the others had entered. “I’m so sorry, oh gosh, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I am so, _so_ sorry, I just heard the window break and—”_ _ _ _

____“You, shut up,” Michael snapped. “Where’s the dog?”_ _ _ _

____“He’s the dog,” Ray said shortly, holding his arm protectively against his chest._ _ _ _

____“What?” Michael blinked, even as Geoff sighed and turned back towards the window._ _ _ _

____“Ryan, Gavin, get in here,” he called. “We found the problem.”_ _ _ _

____“What?” Michael asked again as Ryan and Gavin climbed in. The man seemed to get even more anxious as more people arrived, shifting back and forth uncomfortably on either foot and wringing his hands._ _ _ _

____Geoff looked back at him. “You.”_ _ _ _

____“Me,” the man agreed nervously._ _ _ _

____“You’re a werewolf, aren’t you?”_ _ _ _

____He nodded with a slight whine. “I’m really sorry.”_ _ _ _

____“You fucking bit me,” Ray said in disbelief. Michael’s eyes widened and he looked towards the man with rage._ _ _ _

____“You _WHAT?_ ”_ _ _ _

____“I didn’t _mean_ to,” the man said desperately, “I’m sorry!”_ _ _ _

____“Fucking _werewolves_ , why does the universe hate me?” Ray groaned._ _ _ _

____“I think an important question here is _why_ ,” Jack said, sounding surprisingly, eerily calm._ _ _ _

____“In my defense, you _did_ break into my house,” the man said. “I thought I was being robbed!”_ _ _ _

____“So your first reaction was to _maul_ him?” Michael demanded._ _ _ _

____“I didn’t maul anyone!” he defended. “I was just, you know, protecting myself and my home! Sorry,” he added._ _ _ _

____Geoff ran a hand down his face with a sigh. “Do you have some bandages or something?” he asked. The man sprang into action, hurrying off to get some medical supplies, while Jack led Ray over to a chair._ _ _ _

____“Jack,” Ray said lowly, just loud enough for the bearded man to hear. “I—I’m gonna turn into a werewolf, aren’t I?” He was pale and shaking and Jack had never felt more sorry for anyone in his life._ _ _ _

____“I think it’s a very distinct possibility,” he said softly._ _ _ _

____Ray’s head hit the back of the chair softly. “I figured.”_ _ _ _

____“Hey, on the bright side, your arm should heal fairly quickly.”_ _ _ _

____“ _Great._ ”_ _ _ _

____“Here,” the man returned, arms full of supplies. “I’ve got bandages, antibacterial cream, gauze, and medical tape to hold it all on.” He looked hopefully towards where Jack was kneeling next to Ray, as though looking for praise. Jack just nodded his thanks and took what he needed before starting to clean up the Puerto Rican._ _ _ _

____“Who even _are_ you?” Ryan asked._ _ _ _

____“Markiplier,” Ray said, before the other man could answer. “He’s a Youtuber.”_ _ _ _

____The man, Markiplier, blinked. “You, uh, you watch my stuff?”_ _ _ _

____Ray nodded. “Yeah. Actually,” he laughed humorlessly, “I was thinking about contacting you and asking if you’d like to stream with me sometime. I’m a gamer, too. Brownman.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh.” He blushed. “Sorry.”_ _ _ _

____There was a long, awkward silence._ _ _ _

____“Am I gonna turn?” Ray asked as Jack finished taping down the last bandage._ _ _ _

____Mark winced. “Uh, most likely. Probably. Definitely,” he admitted. “I can, well, already smell the wolf in you. Sorry.”_ _ _ _

____“So, are you behind all the noise and injured pets?” Gavin asked, returning to the reason behind the excursion._ _ _ _

____Mark looked away sheepishly. “Yeah. I just moved here recently, and they’re not used to another large animal being in the area. I’ve had to fight off a few overconfident house cats.” He hesitated before continuing. “Plus, this is the first time I’ve ever really been on my own, without a pack, and it’s… difficult, to say the least.”_ _ _ _

____“It could always be worse,” Ryan said._ _ _ _

____“How?” Ray demanded._ _ _ _

____“It could have actually been a chupacabra, and you could be dead.”_ _ _ _

____Ray opened his mouth and shut it again, unable to find a suitable argument for that. “So, what now?” he asked, looking back at Mark._ _ _ _

____The other man shrugged. “Exchange phone numbers? If you have questions about things, it’s the least I could do to answer them.”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t have to stay here?”_ _ _ _

____“No, of course not,” Mark looked confused at the very idea. “I assume you have a life outside of L.A., you should go back to that.”_ _ _ _

____“Huh, I thought you’d want me to... be in your pack or something.”_ _ _ _

____“It’s not like I don’t have _anyone_ I know,” Mark said. “They’re just not werewolves. I still have a pack, I just can’t really run with them.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh.”_ _ _ _

____It was quiet again for a moment._ _ _ _

____“I really am sorry,” Mark said again. “It’s, it’s not easy, and I never wanted to pass this on to anyone, but, well,” he glanced around at the others, “I think it looks like you already have a pretty solid pack going. I think you’ll be just fine, once you get used to it.”_ _ _ _

____“So, uh, do you play Pokemon?” Ray asked._ _ _ _

____“I never really saw the hype?” Mark said. The room suddenly seemed much colder, quieter, and more hostile. “... Sorry?”_ _ _ _

____“Okay, it’s time to leave,” Ray said, standing up._ _ _ _

____“I’m not saying I hate it, I just never got into it!” Mark protested._ _ _ _

____“Pokemon is fantastic and you should feel ashamed,” Michael said, Gavin nodding decisively behind him._ _ _ _

____Mark looked so incredibly hurt that the other three burst out laughing, and the hurt turned rapidly into confusion._ _ _ _

____Geoff rolled his eyes. “Ignore them,” he advised. “That’s what I do.”_ _ _ _

____“Geoff, how _dare_ ,” Ray gasped, mock-offended but still giggling. _ _ _ _

____“Seriously though,” Geoff said, taking his own advice and not paying attention to the interruption. “What’s going to happen to Ray?”_ _ _ _

____“Well, he’s, y’know, going to turn into a wolf,” Mark said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “Every full moon.”_ _ _ _

____“Hey, Ray, you’ve got a period now,” Michael giggled. Ray shoved him._ _ _ _

____“It’s, sorry but, it’s probably going to really hurt at first,” Mark continued and Ray sobered up instantly. “Your body isn’t used to the change, so it’ll be hell at first.”_ _ _ _

____“Great,” Ray muttered._ _ _ _

____“I don’t really know too much what’ll happen,” he admitted. “I haven’t been around many Bitten before—”_ _ _ _

____“Weren’t _you_ bitten, though?” Gavin jumped in._ _ _ _

____“No, no, I’m a Born wolf,” Mark explained. “It’s kind of like some weird combination of magic and genetics? Basically, I’ve been a werewolf my whole life.”_ _ _ _

____“Some are born wolf, some achieve wolfness, and some have wolfness thrust upon them,” Michael intoned dramatically._ _ _ _

____“Honestly, that’s pretty accurate.”_ _ _ _

____“I didn’t know you knew Shakespeare, Michael,” Ryan commented._ _ _ _

____“That’s Shakespeare?” Michael asked, surprised. “Huh. I saw it in a movie somewhere.”_ _ _ _

____Ryan opened his mouth to respond, hesitated, then closed his mouth and sighed. “Yes. It’s Shakespeare. And the original speaker was referring to his penis. You just compared lycanthropy to someone’s penis.”_ _ _ _

____“Holy shit, I love Shakespeare.”_ _ _ _

____“Isn’t Shakespeare about seventy-five percent dick jokes?” Mark asked._ _ _ _

____“It’s really more like ninety percent,” Ryan shrugged. “He also pretty much invented the ‘your mom’ joke.”_ _ _ _

____“Shakespeare is my new idol,” Ray said reverently._ _ _ _

____Gavin yawned. “So there’s nothing we really need to do here, right?”_ _ _ _

____“Well, everything we were going to investigate was actually caused by Mark, so, yeah,” Jack said._ _ _ _

____“Sorry,” Mark repeated._ _ _ _

____“Can we go find a motel or something, then? I’m really tired.”_ _ _ _

____“You don’t wanna go get bevved in Hollywood, boi?” Michael asked, slinging an arm around Gavin’s shoulders._ _ _ _

____Gavin shrugged. “Well, yeah, but. I dunno.”_ _ _ _

____“We should be able to stay for one more day at least,” Geoff said. “Jack, you said the bar was good for a week or so, right?”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, and I could see about replacing the seats in the van,” Jack offered. The three Lads let out simultaneous relieved groans._ _ _ _

____“And Ray could maybe get some actual medical attention for his bite,” Ryan said._ _ _ _

____“Sorry.”_ _ _ _

____“The doctors aren’t going to get suspicious or anything?” Ray asked._ _ _ _

____“I don’t see why they shouldn’t, it just looks like a dog bite.”_ _ _ _

____“Sorry.”_ _ _ _

____“We get it, man, you’re sorry,” Ray said. “You don’t have to say it every time someone mentions you biting me.”_ _ _ _

____Mark opened his mouth and hesitated, clearly about to apologize again. “Yeah, I’ll just. Let you guys be on your way, then.”_ _ _ _

____“Thanks for not being a chupacabra,” Michael said._ _ _ _

____“You’re… welcome?”_ _ _ _

____The six of them headed toward the broken window. “You know you can just leave through the front door, right?” Mark said as Gavin started clambering through. They sheepishly turned away from the window and followed Mark to the door._ _ _ _

____“See you around, dude,” Ray said as he left._ _ _ _

____Mark watched them pile into the van, fighting over who got to sit where before Geoff yelled at them to sit the fuck down, the seats all suck anyway. Then they drove off, leaving the neighborhood quiet once more._ _ _ _

____Until—_ _ _ _

____"Mrow?"_ _ _ _

____Mark looked over to see several pairs of eyes in the bush next to him, glowing in the streetlight. He frowned at them. "What? Gonna have another orgy on my porch?"_ _ _ _

____One of the cats meowed at him again and he growled back, causing them to scatter._ _ _ _

____"My porch," he grumbled, going back inside._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, one irrevocably changed character down, [REDACTED] to go!
> 
> Chapter 9 will _probably_ still go up in two weeks, though I'm not sure how that'll affect the release of chapter 10 because of holiday things. Speaking of chapter 9, well... let's just say Ray's gonna have a bad time.  >:D -Bookworm


	9. A Hairy Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which multiple people have a bad time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AYYYYY WE'RE BACK!!! And also updating both a day early and two weeks late. Welcome back guys! It's Pain Time.

 

 

 

* * *

 

The door chimed precisely at three A.M., right when Jack was preparing to close up for the night, and two men walked in. The taller one looked kind of like Jesus, if Jesus looked vaguely homeless.

Jack shoved his frustration down - he wanted to go home, damn it - and gave them a friendly bartender-esque smile. “Can I help you two?”

“Oh, you’re still open?” the shorter one asked.

“Technically, no,” Jack said. “But in practice I’m still here, and the door’s still unlocked, and there’s people who want drinks, so I guess I’m still open. Anything in particular you want?”

“Do you have Guinness?” the shorter one asked as the two of them moved to the bar. Jack caught sight of their reflections in the wall-mounted mirror; they wavered like the air above hot asphalt. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“A pint?” Jack asked. The shorter one nodded, and Jack turned to the taller, Jesus-looking one. “Anything for you?”

The taller one shrugged. “I’m just here to use your bathroom, if that’s alright.”

Jack nodded his head toward the hallway. “Go for it. It’s just down that hallway there.” The taller man went to the bathroom, and Jack poured out the glass of Guinness. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he said, and followed the taller man into the hallway.

Once out of sight of the shorter man, Jack treaded lightly, silently, down the hallway and gently lifted the fire extinguisher off its hook on the wall. He raised it above his head, ready to swing, and waited outside the door to the men’s bathroom.

The door opened.

The fire extinguisher came down with a thud on the taller man’s head, and he collapsed like a sack of potatoes, groaning and holding the sides of his head.

“Matt?” called the shorter man from the main room of the bar. “Is everything okay?” He appeared at the end of the hallway, and stepped back in shock.

“Would you care to tell me,” Jack said coldly, “what a couple of vampires are doing in my bar?”

“Getting a drink!” the shorter man yelled. “We didn’t do _anything_ , why the fuck did you hit him like that!?”

“I’m protecting my bar.”

“Okay, look,” the shorter man said. “We were literally here to get a beer and use your bathroom. Not to _feed,_ or whatever you think vampires like doing on their nights off. I swear.”

Jack raised the fire extinguisher. “On what?”

“On my life.” The shorter man met Jack’s eyes, holding a steady gaze.

Jack sighed, lowering the extinguisher. “I’m an asshole, aren’t I.”

“A huge one,” the taller man, Matt, mumbled. “’M gonna have a headache for like, a month.”

Jack left the two others to make a drink to numb Matt’s headache. After joining him at the bar, the shorter man introduced himself as Jeremy.

“We usually work the graveyard shift at stores, since, y’know, the whole daylight thing doesn’t work out so well,” Jeremy explained. “Tonight we both had the night off, though, so we just kind of dicked around. Saw a couple movies. Wandered through a park. We  _didn't_ jump strangers to suck their blood,” he added sharply.

“Yeah, that shit’s just gross,” Matt added. The drink Jack had made, with pain-relieving herbs, had lessened his headache, though he still squinted like he was struggling through a bad hangover.

“Don’t vampires… _need_ blood, though?” Jack asked.

The two looked at each other, and Jeremy gave the bartender a shrug. “Not really,” he said.

“As far as we can tell, without blood we age about half as fast as a normal human would,” Matt said. “With better reflexes and faster healing. Fresh blood ramps that up and slows down aging to almost nothing for a while.”

“We have a friend who slips us blood bags from the hospital for emergencies,” Jeremy added.

“So all the stories of vampires in the Middle Ages and onward bleeding people dry or kidnapping people to use as blood farms are just…?”

“The crazy ones,” Jeremy affirmed. “Or the ones who want to make damn sure they live forever. Except it backfires because they usually get themselves killed by hunters for being too obvious.”

Something buzzed, and Matt pulled a battered-looking cell phone out of his pocket. “It’s Caleb,” he told Jeremy. “Says we should think about heading back soon, sun’s rising early today.”

Jeremy nodded. “Thanks for the beer, Jack.” He started to search his pockets for cash to pay, but Jack waved him off.

“It’s on the house,” he said. “I figure I owe you one for braining Matt like I did.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.”

“Not a problem at all,” Jack said. “And if you ever need protection or anything, don’t hesitate to come here. It’s probably the safest place in Austin with all the wards I have on it.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

Michael dialed Jack’s number with one hand. “Jack, it’s happening right now.”

_“Already?”_

“Yes, already! I’m heading back to the apartment right now!”

_“Michael, wait.”_ Michael held back a groan of frustration. _“You don’t know how much control Ray will have. He might attack you.”_

“What else can I do!?”

_“Just be careful.”_

“When am I not careful?”

_“The times I could mention would fill a book.”_

“I’ll be _fine_ _,_ Jack.” Michael hung up and parked the car. The walk to his apartment was tense and silent.

Michael all but kicked down the door in his haste to get inside, to get to Ray. He called his friend’s name, his heart in his throat.

Instead of Ray's voice, Michael heard a distant thud and groans of pain.

“Ray, is that you?” Remembering Jack’s warning, Michael stepped softly through the apartment, toward the bedroom the noises had come from. “You okay?”

As he approached the door, he heard heavy breathing. There was a brief sound like Ray was about to say Michael’s name before a series of sickening cracks sounded through the door, followed by a scream of pain that repeated in Michael’s head like a siren.

Michael reached for the doorknob and gripped it, ready to wrench the door open. _He might attack you._ Michael bit his lip. _You don't know how much control he’ll have._

More cracks. Quieter screams. Michael clung to the doorknob like a lifeline, trying not to scream himself.

The screams became moans. The moans became whimpers.

Michael couldn't wait any longer. He opened the door.

Faint glints of light in the darkness slowly became more defined, accompanied by a quiet growl. Michael made out twin yellow disks of reflected light from outside, like a dog’s. Just below them, sharp teeth bared in a defensive snarl glinted white.

Michael had had a dog, when he was a teenager. They had gotten her from a shelter and she was skittish, constantly on guard. To get close to her, Michael had to hold his hands out in front of him, palms forward, and move slowly, speak softly.

He did the same thing now, with the gray wolf in front of him. In a half-crouch, he took a few small steps forward, and the wolf growled again.

“It's okay,” he whispered. “I'm not gonna hurt you.” He briefly imagined the wolf striking suddenly, paws on his chest pinning him, jaws closing around his throat. He took a deep breath and forced the thought from his mind.

This was still Ray, after all. Right?

He took another step, sinking lower until he was on his knees. “It's all over,” he cooed. “You're safe, buddy…” He swallowed. “Ray.”

He thought he saw the wolf’s ears perk up, thought he saw a change in the eyes. The wolf straightened out of its defensive crouch, moved toward Michael, and his breath caught in his throat.

The wolf padded slowly toward Michael in a moment that seemed to last years. The wolf was close enough that Michael could see his own pale face reflected in the eyes that he now saw were a deep, familiar brown -

Ray butted his head against Michael's chest, whining softly. Michael released the breath he was holding, silently thanking God and Buddha and whoever else might be listening that _he wasn't going to be mauled by his best friend._ He hugged Ray, running his fingers through the surprisingly soft fur.

“You're so soft,” he said. Ray chose that moment to sloppily lick Michael's ear, and Michael flinched, pushing him away. “Quit it!”

Ray looked at him, and Michael could have sworn he was grinning. He leaned back against the wall, and rubbed Ray's head as the wolf curled up (mostly) in his lap.

“’M glad you're okay,” Michael murmured. Ray's ears twitched under his hand. “I was really worried.”

They fell asleep like that, keeping each other company in the silence.

\- - -

When Michael woke up, he had the worst crick in his neck _ever._ But, more importantly, Ray was human again, draped over him like the world’s boniest blanket.

He shifted to give his neck some relief, and Ray stirred.

“Oh god, I never want to move ever again,” he groaned, flopping dramatically into Michael's lap. Then he winced, because he had just flopped into Michael's lap. “Everything hurts, this sucks massive, hairy balls.”

“It _sounded_ like it hurt.”

“Yeah... “ Ray scowled up at him. “What took you so long, anyway?”

Michael hesitated. “Jack,” he finally said. “Jack didn't want me to barge in, in case you flipped out and bit on instinct.”

“Oh. Can you make me some food?”

“Maybe, if you get out of my lap.”

When Ray didn't respond right away, Michael looked down and almost laughed. Ray had fallen asleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm worried that this is really rough as a chapter, since it took forever to actually be able to write the full moon scene. Writing angst is a bitch, as it turns out. See you in two weeks for more fun and even _more_ new characters!


	10. Wolfsbane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ray searches in unusual places for unusual (and then surprisingly mundane) things.

“Wolfsbane?”

“Yep,” Jack nodded as he read over the passage in his bestiary for the hundredth time. “According to this, it cures lycanthropy. However this book is also old as dirt, so I’m gonna take it with a grain of salt.”

“Google says that it kills humans,” Ryan said mildly, looking at his phone.

Michael frowned. “I don’t want to kill him, guys.”

“We don’t want to either,” Jack assured him.

“I appreciate that,” Ray jumped in. “I’d like to, y’know, not die.”

“Yahoo Answers has conflicting results,” Ryan said as he scrolled through. “Some people say it kills werewolves, some say it turns them _into_ werewolves, and some say it helps werewolves retain their human mind during the full moon.”

“How is this supposed to help?”

“I’m just giving you what I’ve found so far,” he defended.

“Yeah, from Google and fuckin’ Yahoo Answers,” Michael rolled his eyes. “We can rule out that third thing entirely, since Ray was pretty much himself the whole night, so I think I’ll listen to Jack and the magic book for this one.”

“It’s not magic -”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s your bestiality book, but it’s about magical creatures so same difference.”

Jack’s beard twitched, either from amusement or exasperation, the others weren’t sure.

“It won’t make any difference at all if we can’t find some wolfsbane,” he pointed out. “They don’t exactly sell it at the corner store.”

“We could…” Ryan broke off, immediately looking like he regretted the entirety of his life choices.

“We could what, Ryan?” Ray asked.

Ryan shook his head. “No, nothing. It’s not worth the trouble.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s worth not feeling like I’m being ripped apart every month. In case you weren’t aware, it fucking sucks.”

“Whatever you’ve got, Ryan, it’s probably the best idea we have,” Jack said.

“I was going to say we could ask Burnie if he knew anything, okay?” Ryan blurted out. “A friend of his has… territory, I guess, in Austin.”

The other three men stared at him in silence.

“Yeah, no offense, but let’s not start owing demons favors,” Michael said. “We’ve got to know someone else involved with supernatural shit, right?”

“I’m a fucking idiot!” Ray yelled suddenly. “ _S_ _o_ fucking dumb.”

“What?”

Ray pulled out his phone, already dialing a number. “We ask Mark.”

He put the call on speakerphone and held it out as the phone on the other end rang. There was a click as it was received.

_“Hello?”_

“Hey, Mark, it’s Ray. You’re on speaker.”

Mark’s voice brightened almost immediately. _“Oh, hey! What’s up?”_

“We were wondering if you knew anything about wolfsbane,” Jack said.

Mark was silent for a moment before exhaling loudly. _“It’s… not something to be taken lightly.”_

“So you know stuff about it?” Ray asked.

_“Yeah, it’s kind of like a werewolf sedative, but it’s highly poisonous in anything other than a tiny dose. What’s this about?”_

Ray sighed. “If the change is going to hurt as much as it did, I don’t think I could do it every month. I thought wolfsbane might help with that.”

_“Oh! Well, it can, but did it really hurt that much? It’s never hurt for me.”_

“Yeah, it did.”

_“Huh, weird.”_

“You said you were born a werewolf, right?” Jack asked. “Ray wasn’t, so that might have something to do with it.”

“If I had to guess, Mark’s body is used to the change,” Ryan mused. “Ray’s isn’t, so it hurt a lot more. Hopefully it’ll hurt less in the future if that’s the case.”

“Theories are great and all, but I’d rather be drugged up just in case,” Ray said.

Mark sighed. _“I think I might know someone around Austin that can get you wolfsbane,”_ he said. _“I’ll let you know if they’re still around.”_

“Thanks, Mark.”

_“Just be careful, okay? I wasn’t kidding when I said wolfsbane can be lethal.”_

“I’ll be careful,” Ray promised.

* * *

 The sign above the shop said _Plants & Potions_, and the window was full of potted herbs and larger plants.

“Hey, blaze it,” Ray said when he saw the plants. Ryan rolled his eyes and pushed open the door.

The bell tinkled lightly as he, Ray, and Jack entered. The air was thick with planty smells that made Ryan’s nose itch, and Ray sneezed a few times in quick succession. Specks of dust, or maybe pollen, twirled in the air like thousands of minuscule dancers.

“I’ll be right out!” a female voice called from a back room. About a minute later, the owner of the voice, a young woman, appeared behind the counter, brushing dirt and what looked like flakes of dried blood off her hands. She had another smudge of dirt on her cheek, slightly darker than her skin. The nametag on her dirt-dusted apron read _Mica_.  “How can I help you guys?”

Jack stepped closer to the counter, the other two following. “Do you have any wolfsbane?” he asked.

Mica’s eyes widened. She glanced behind them to the front door of the shop before beckoning them with a hand. “Come with me,” she said.

She led them into a greenhouse-like, well-lit back room. Two flowerpots, one with just dirt and one housing a leafy plant of some kind, sat on a large, dirt-splattered table in the center of the room with more of the possibly-dried-blood mixed in with the dirt. “So,” she said as the door swung shut. “A werewolf, a banshee, and a demon walk into a flower shop looking for poison. Sounds like a setup for a really weird joke.”

“How did you -” Jack began.

“Know what you all are?” Mica finished. She shrugged. “My wards are pretty thorough.”

“Sorry, uh, _poison_?” Ray asked, looking alarmed.

“Wolfsbane, or monkshood, is deadly to humans,” she explained, looking him over. “It can be bad news for weres, too, but you could handle a small dose, probably.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Jack interjected. “We need a sedative strong enough to keep the change as painless as possible for Ray, and wolfsbane seems to be the only thing like that.”

“Oh, is that it?” she asked, surprised. “You don’t need wolfsbane for _that_. Now, if you’re a rager on blood moons, that’s another story.”

“No, seriously, it was painful as dicks,” Ray insisted.

“Let me guess,” Mica said. “You got turned recently, and just went through your first change, and it sucked major balls.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Generally, bodies really don’t like being forced into a new shape,” she explained. “You should be good now, though you’ll still have some pain and be sore afterwards.”

“Seriously?”

“According to some other Bitten wolves I know, yeah. But if you’re just worried about the pain, I can recommend some things that work better than wolfsbane.”

Ray nodded. “Yes, please.”

Mica clapped her hands together once. “Okay, let me just..." She trailed off, looking worried. “Hm.”

“What?” Jack asked.

“I’m not sure how many pain-relieving herbs I have. Or… if I have any at all.”

Ray groaned.

“I’ve been wondering, what’s with those two pots?” Ryan asked, pointing at the two pots on the table.

Mica huffed. “Mandrakes. They’re a _bitch_ to repot.”

“Yeah, great, screaming plants from Harry Potter, go back to the part where you don’t think you have pain-relieving herbs,” Ray said.

“For them to _really_ work well, it’s best to pick them from places rich in magic,” Mica explained. “I could grow them here, but I have a lot of other plants that could cause trouble with them. Cross-pollination with poisons? Not very pretty. And it’s been a while since I’ve made a trip out to where I collect them, so… yeah.” She shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Do you know anyone who might have some?” Jack asked.

Mica looked thoughtful. “Well, there’s Kdin, but… Ah, never mind. Give me a minute.” She rifled through papers on a desk in the corner, and wrote something down before handing a paper to Jack. “Here’s his address and plants you should ask for. If you tell him I sent you, he might be less likely to get pissy.”

“Thanks,” Jack said, folding up the paper to put it in his jacket pocket.

“If he still doesn’t want to help, let me know and I‘ll try to make a trip out to my spot before the next full moon for you,” she said.

“Thanks for your help,” Ray said, waving as they left the shop.

The bell tinkled a cheerful goodbye, with something heavier seeming to float in the chimes.

* * *

“Okay, this is definitely the address, right?” Ray asked, looking up at the house in front of the small group. It looked… not like the house of someone who gathered and sold magical herbs, real magic or otherwise. More like a nuclear family with their 2.4 kids and Golden Retriever, with a treehouse in the backyard.

“It matches what Mica wrote,” Jack said.

“Then… I guess we go in,” Ryan said. He walked forward a little ways, Jack and Ray behind him, before stopping without warning. “Shit.”

“What? Did you step in some?” Ray looked around in front of the older man, but didn’t see anything amiss.

“Devil’s Trap,” Ryan grouched.

“Uh, what?”

“Someone doesn’t want any uninvited visitors,” Jack explained, kneeling down to examine the ground. Brushing away the dirt on the stepping stone Ryan was trapped on revealed a traditional trap sigil carved into it. “Ryan has to stay here until the owner releases him.”

“Why can’t we do anything?”

“That would be rude,” Jack said blandly.

“Oh, and trapping me isn’t?” Ryan asked hotly.

“To be fair, you are a creature of eternal damnation.”

Ryan graced him with a withering look, but Jack ignored him. “Come on, Ray. Let’s find this Kdin fellow.”

Leaving Ryan in the middle of the front path, Jack and Ray continued to the door. Finding a demon trap was actually a good thing in Jack’s mind - it meant they were probably in the right place.

Ray reached out and rang the doorbell, holding the button down longer than strictly necessary.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Someone shouted in response from inside the house. A few muffled thumps and choice swears could be heard inside the house.

“Hey, tell him to let me out when he answers the door!” Ryan called. Ray waved him off, and immediately felt the heat of a death glare on his back.

The door opened, revealing the owner of the voice: a man about their height, with glasses and a T-shirt with a picture of a dragon on it. He looked over Ray and Jack, almost appraising them. “If you’re selling something, I’m not interested,” he said, and began to close the door.

“Actually, Mica sent us,” Jack said.

The door swung open again. “Mica Burton?” he asked. At their blank stares, he rolled his eyes and said, “Owns the flower shop? Plants and Potions?”

“Yeah, her,” Ray said. “Jack, give him the paper.”

Jack ignored him. “She sent us your way to get some pain-relieving herbs,” he explained.

“And wolfsbane,” Ray added.

“Ray, we don’t actually need wolfsbane.”

“She said that thing about blood moons though.”

Jack sighed. “Pain-relieving herbs _and_ wolfsbane, then.”

The man, presumably Kdin, blinked slowly. “Come on in, I guess.” He stepped aside and held the door open.

“Oh, and can you let our friend out of your little trap?” Jack asked, gesturing out to where Ryan was standing, glowering sullenly at the door.

Kdin looked out at him. “Do I even want to know why you’re friends with a demon?” he asked.

“It’s a long story.”

“Riiight.” Kdin held out his hand, and the demon trap ensnaring Ryan - as well as multiple other traps scattered around the house and lawn - glowed a bright purple before shattering into tiny flecks of light and melting away.

“Oh, good,” Ray said. “Magic shenanigans. Love it.”

Kdin glared at him. “Just come inside,” he said. The three of them stepped over a friendly-looking welcome mat and into the house.

It was a lot cleaner than Ray expected. He wasn’t sure _why_ he expected Kdin’s house to be messy. But it was definitely… very tidy. The living room off to the left showed a paused video game that looked like Bloodborne, with a blanket draped messily on the couch and cords coiled neatly near the TV. The kitchen on the other side had a surprising amount of junk food on the counters: donuts, Doritos, Twinkies… Even to Ray, it looked unhealthy.

Kdin saw him looking and shrugged. “Roommates,” he said in explanation. “They can kind of afford to eat horribly.” He looked like he was about to say more, but stopped himself. “Anyway, you wanted wolfsbane? You sure? It’s kind of -”

“Massively poisonous, yeah,” Ryan said.

“We also needed…” Jack consulted the list. “Ginger, birch leaves, and white willow bark.”

“Can I see that?” Kdin asked. Jack handed over the paper, and he let out a low whistle. “Okay. I can do that. Probably.”

He went into the kitchen and began opening drawers, muttering to himself. He set a small, ornate box on the counter and opened the small window above the sink, reaching out and down out of view. His hands returned with some leaves, which joined the box. He pulled a pen out of another drawer and began writing on the paper, pointing occasionally with the pen.

“Willow bark is your best bet for general pain, it makes a really good tea. And if you run out, I think you’ll be able to find some in the average grocery store. And the birch” - the pen moved to the leaves - “has other beneficial effects, like preventing wrinkles and increasing circulation.” He opened the box, pulling out strips of bark and putting them with the leaves. “I actually used the last of my ginger for dinner a few nights ago, so just buy some ginger at the store or something.”

He straightened, frowning. “Okay, what the hell, you could have bought all of this yourselves. I bet Mica just wanted me to talk with people who aren’t nocturnal, fucking meddler,” he muttered.

“And the wolfsbane?” Ray prompted.

Kdin gave him a dirty look, and left the kitchen. The three of them simply stood, awkwardly, in the middle of the kitchen, until he came back gingerly carrying a small potted plant with purple flowers. He set it down on the counter and pulled out a box of latex gloves, pulling a pair on. He plucked off a single leaf, and pulled a pair of scissors out from somewhere, cutting off a tiny sliver of the emerald leaf. He held up the sliver for them all to see. “Do _not_ use any more than this at once, because even a werewolf will die horribly,” he said. “Humans shouldn’t use any at all, and don’t even touch it with your bare hands, this shit is potent as all hell.” He points at Ryan. “It’s not gonna kill you, but you’ll have a really bad time, so I still recommend not touching it.”

As he spoke, a drawer opened and two ziploc bags floated over to him, wreathed in purple. One of them opened, and he dropped the leaf in. The bag sealed itself, and another drawer rolled open, glowing faintly purple, to reveal a trash can. He held his hands over the trash can, and another flash of purple forced the gloves off of his hands and into the trash can at a surprisingly high speed. Gloves disposed of, he puts the bark and leaves into the other bag by hand.

“So, what’s with the purple stuff?” Ray asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kdin said. He held out his hand. “That’ll be fifty dollars.”

“What!?”

Jack shushed Ray while Ryan pulled out his wallet. He handed Kdin the bills, and Kdin handed him the bags and the paper he had written on.

“Listen, not to say it wasn’t nice meeting you, but if you run out of those just go somewhere else,” Kdin said, ushering them toward the door. They were outside with the door shut behind them before any of them could react.

“What an effervescent socialite,” Ryan said drily.

“Ryan, please, use smaller words,” Ray told him. He took the bags and paper from Jack and stuffed them unceremoniously into his pocket before starting back down the sidewalk toward the truck. “Can we stop for food on the way back? I’m starving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't do drugs kids
> 
> Hey look, I managed to make this update! Are you proud of me? I'm proud of me. I promise eventually we'll have chapters that don't involve introducing new characters, but today is not that day. And February 6 will, technically, not be that day either.
> 
> Mica's a witch, though that might not have been totally clear in this chapter, and Kdin is something called a warlock. Warlocks will be explained later on, after some things go down with Michael. For now he just has weird purple Shego magic.
> 
> This chapter's a little bleh in my opinion, a lot of standing around talking. But next time is going to be _wild_.
> 
> -Bookworm


	11. Rickin' and Rollin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone parties a little too hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY!!!!!! We've been sitting on this chapter in particular since, like, July. It was one of the first bits we thought of for this AU.

Something relatively unknown about werewolves was the fact that animals were inexplicably drawn to them. Constantly.

First there was the time Ray amassed a following of pigeons. They pooped all over Michael’s shoes, but Ray somehow remained untouched.

Then there were the rats when Ray was walking to Taco Bell. They followed him for half a block before Ray registered the screams of horror and disgust from passersby.

And now, _fucking this._

The cat lounging on the kitchen counter stared back at Michael, blinking lazily. It slowly, almost deliberately, lifted its leg and began licking its lower belly. The cheeky fuck.

“Ray, what the fuck is a cat doing in here?” he called.

The sound of video game music stopped. “Oh, that’s Percival,” Ray called back. “He followed me home. We’re in love.”

“Ray, you’re a _dog_.”

“Love doesn’t discriminate.”

Michael groaned and ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t like cats, something which Ray very well knew. “Are you going to get rid of it?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because it’s a goddamn cat, dude, and I don’t like cats!” Michael yelled. “We don’t even have food for it, or cat litter! This thing is not pissing on my stuff!”

“So go buy some.”

“You - no!!!” Ray might have been the werewolf, but Michael was the one that bit back a frustrated growl. “Buy some yourself!”

“Kind of in the middle of a game here, dude.”

At a total loss for words, Michael resigned himself to giving Percival a venomous glare. The cat was unperturbed, and continued licking himself. He paused to yawn, showing sharp white teeth.

As if to rub salt in the wound, no one else had a problem with Percival. Jack was mostly indifferent, Percival himself refused to even get near Ryan, much to Ryan’s chagrin, and both Gavin and Geoff were immediately enamored, cooing over the cat like he was God’s gift to the world. And the cat just soaked it in, lounging across their laps and purring loudly.

“I dunno why you’re being so pissy about this, Michael,” Gavin said while cuddling Percival. “He’s an absolute darling, listen to him purring!” He tried to mimic the cat’s purr, producing one of the most bizarre raspberry-like sounds Michael had ever heard.

“So, you know Percival’s actually female, right?” Geoff said to Ray one day, idly playing with Percival’s tail.

“Shit, really?” Ray looked over. “How can you tell, aren’t the parts hidden?”

“If she was a dude, the little dick would poke out when she cleans herself,” Geoff told him. “And the hole would be farther from the anus and round. There’s just a little slit, right below it, see?” He lifted Percival and aimed her butt toward Ray - and toward Michael, who was sitting right next to him.

“That’s disgusting, Geoff,” Michael protested, turning away.

“So don’t look, quit being such a little bitch.”

Ray didn’t seem to care. “Huh. I’m still gonna call her Percival, though.”

For the most part, though, Michael made a point of ignoring the cat. And if she curled up in his lap and he didn’t remove her, well, if he removed her then he’d have to stop ignoring her, wouldn’t he? 

* * *

“A nightclub?” Geoff asked incredulously. “I’d expect this from one of the Lads, but you don’t seem like the party type, Jack.”

“There have been a lot of reports of people going missing from the area, specifically in the club itself, ever since it opened,” Jack explained, attempting to ignore Ray and Michael trying to throw peanuts into each other’s mouths. He didn’t even _serve_ peanuts, where did they get those? “Sometimes they come back a week or so later, or more worryingly, sometimes they don’t. I’ve passed by it a couple of times and the whole place just feels like death.” He shuddered. “There’s definitely something there.”

“What, you think there’s a creepy ghost eating people?” Michael asked. He darted to the side, and cheered when he caught Ray’s thrown peanut in his mouth.

“Ghosts don’t eat people,” Ryan sighed.

“Not a ghost then,” Ray said. Michael nailed him in the face with a peanut, and he flinched. “Ow, fuck, Michael,” he complained as the other man cackled. “If it’s not a ghost, then what is it?”

“Well, there’s a lot of human-eating spirits and creatures to choose from,” Jack said. “We can probably rule out a wendigo, since I don’t think they would have enough restraint to take only a few select people _or_ send any back alive.”

“Can you say what it _might_ be, instead of what it isn’t?” Geoff asked.

“It’s something smart enough to single out prey one person at a time,” Jack said. “The people who went missing were primarily young men, but it’s taken a couple of women too.”

“Could it be a succubus?” Ryan asked.

Jack shook his head. “There wasn’t any indication of demonic activity when I passed the club. But it’s likely something in that same vein, so we should be careful to stick together and not go off alone with attractive strangers.”

“Zey vant to suck our blood!” Michael exclaimed, raising his arms and wiggling his fingers creepily. Ray laughed.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Vampires don’t talk like that, Michael.”

“Tell that to Hollywood,” Ray said.

“Ray, please, they already know,” Michael told him. “We’ve gotta tell them vampires don’t sparkle though.”

“So when are we busting up the club?” Geoff asked.

“As soon as possible,” Jack said. “If we wait, we could risk more people being taken.”

“So we’re going clubbing?” Ray asked.

“Well… technically, yes.”

“Sweet.”

* * *

“Allure, huh?” Michael read off the sign above the door, looking distinctly unimpressed.

“Better than Purgatory in Miami,” Ray said, giving him a shit-eating grin. Michael rolled his eyes and shoved him.

“Yeah, well, _Allure_ sounds like a fuckin’ strip joint,” Geoff snorted, shouldering the younger two aside.

“Got any ones, Gav?” Michael asked.

“No - well, actually -”

“It’s not a strip club,” Jack sighed, stopping Gavin before he could take his wallet out. “It’s just a nightclub, okay? Don’t start throwing ones at girls, they might take offense.”

“At the very least, they’ll take your money,” Ryan pointed out.

“That too.”

As they drew closer to the entrance, it became clear that the music was turned up to the usual outlandish volumes, and they were playing… wait…

“Justin Timberlake?!”

Michael sounded outraged. Ray sounded ecstatic.

Ryan made a face. “What the hell is this?”

“This, my devilishly handsome friend, is _‘Rock Your Body’_ by the singularly amazing artist known as Justin Timberlake,” Ray said, dancing a little where he was standing.

“Please never call me ‘devilishly handsome’ ever again.”

“I make no promises.”

Ray was the only one who still looked at all interested as they lined up to get in. The next song came on, and Michael would later swear that the Puerto Rican’s eyes started sparkling.

“Hell yeah! OutKast!”

Geoff’s mustache bristled and twitched, and Jack looked well on the way to a massive headache. Ray opened his mouth and, sensing danger, Michael tried to intervene.

“Ray, _no_ -”

“ _HEEEEEEY-AAAAAAAA!_ ”

Resigning themselves to Ray half-shouting, half-singing the early 2000’s lyrics, the rest of the group just tried to distance themselves from him as much as they could while remaining in line.

They reached the bouncer just as Ray started screaming “ _shake it like a Polaroid picture”_. The Gents were let in without a word, while Michael was asked for his ID, much to his consternation. He and Gavin entered close behind the Gents, but when Ray went to follow, the bouncer held a hand out and gave him a dark look.

“I don’t think so, short stuff.”

“Hey!”

“You’re annoying,” the bouncer said bluntly. “Go find some other place to bother people.”

“But - my - I have - Michael!” Ray shouted.

His supposedly best friend looked back and laughed. “That’s what you get, Narvaez!” he replied. “Fuck you, Ray!” He turned back around and entered the club. Gavin offered the barest shrug before following, leaving Ray alone outside.

“Alright, fine,” Ray grumbled. “I’ll just. Go wait in the car. Have fun, assholes.” He slunk away from the door of the club, hands stuffed into his pockets. He hopped up into the bed of the truck and pulled out his phone, opening Twitter.

_just got preemptively kicked out of a club for enjoying the music too much_

Ray huffed as he published the tweet. He was actually looking forward to going in, too.

The truck rocked briefly, and Ray looked up to see Ryan joining him in the bed. “I thought you’d be partying it up in there, having fun without me and stuff.”

Ryan shook his head, chuckling. “Clubs aren’t really my scene,” he said. “Too much…”

“Music? People? Alcohol?”

“All of the above.”

“Sucks,” Ray said. “At least the bouncer wasn’t a dick to you.”

“What happened?” Ryan asked. “I noticed Michael and Gavin coming in without you, but all Michael said was that you dug your own grave.”

“Bouncer said I was being annoying. And he called me short.”

“Well, he’s kind of right.”

“Ryan!”

“About the annoying bit,” Ryan amended. “You didn’t _have_ to sing at the top of your lungs all the way through the line.”

Ray shrugged. “What can I say, the music spoke to me.”

“You could have replied a little more quietly.”

The music from the club faded suddenly, and Ray instinctively turned his head in the building’s direction. It almost sounded like someone was singing over the music now. “Does Allure have karaoke?” he asked. “Whoever’s singing clearly doesn’t know how it works, they’re not even singing to the song.”

Ryan didn’t respond, and Ray looked back at him. He had a completely blank expression, staring in the direction of the club. Ray waved his hand in front of the other man’s face. “Hey, Earth to Ryan.”

Ryan blinked, and his eyes refocused on Ray. “Did you say something?”

“Yeah, I asked if the club has karaoke, because someone’s singing in there - hey!” Ray snapped his fingers in front of Ryan’s nose before he could space out again. “Did your drink get drugged while you were in there or something?”

“No!” Ryan protested. “I didn’t even order any drinks, I just… I don’t know, something’s weird about that singing.”

“Yeah, whoever it is isn’t even singing along with the song.”

“No, it’s…” Ryan shrugged, visibly frustrated. “I don’t know.”

“Well, I’d love to go check it out, but I’m apparently not allowed in, so.”

“Oh, I can get you in,” Ryan said. “But I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

Ray narrowed his eyes, trying to gauge what Ryan was planning. It was definitely something devious, but Ray was anything but a mind reader. He sighed. “What did you have in mind?”

As it turned out, what Ryan had in mind was the glamorous method of climbing in through the bathroom window. And the bathroom window was not large.

“Don’t people normally _escape_ through the bathroom windows?” Ray grunted, halfway through the window. The singing was much more audible now: a wordless melody floating through the air.

“That’s why this is great,” Ryan said. “No one will expect you to get in this way!”

Ray turned around, with great difficulty, to give Ryan a glare. “I swear you’re just fucking with me at this point.”

Ryan smiled. “Just a little bit.”

Ray gave one last desperate wiggle, and finally fell off the windowsill onto the floor of the bathroom. A cloud of smoke drifted in through the window and solidified into Ryan.

“Oh, that’s good,” he said. “I was worried that might not work.”

“What would have happened if it didn’t work?”

Ryan shrugged. “Something horrible, most likely.”

“Like limbs in the wrong places?”

“According to Burnie, yes.”

Ray shuddered. “Let’s just go figure out what’s happening.”

Ryan pushed open the bathroom door and stopped, swaying slightly. Ray gave him a push, making him stumble forward. “Hey, what’s the holdup?”

Ryan took a deep breath. “Sorry, I just… can’t think.”

“Yeah, well, try to keep it together, buddy,” Ray said. “At least until we can stop walking in single file.”

Eventually they emerged into the club proper, and frankly, Ray wasn’t impressed. There was fog everywhere, and it just stank of alcohol and sweat. And then there was the fact that literally nobody was dancing. Everyone he could see was just standing still, swaying slightly, staring out into space. There was a stage jutting from the wall where a DJ stood blankly behind his turntables. He spotted the others across the room, caught in the same trance as everyone else. Then there was a flash of movement in the middle of the mass of people and he instantly focused on it.

The source of the singing was a gorgeous woman in somewhat unnecessarily revealing clothes. At least, Ray was pretty sure she was a woman. It was hard to get a good look at her, but through the fog he could see her curly brown hair and freckles, and her… oddly familiar facial structure. As he watched, she approached one man in particular and beckoned him forward. He shuffled forward like a zombie, following her out of the crowd and through a door Ray had completely missed earlier.

The singing faded, and the original music came back up, drowning the song out with the sound of “Boom Boom Pow.” The crowd gradually began dancing again, and Ray started pushing through them toward the others with Ryan following him.

“Ray?” Michael asked when he finally made it to the bar. “How did you get in?”

“Snuck through the bathroom window,” Ray said. “What was all that bullshit about?”

“What bullshit?” Geoff asked. “We were having drinks and then you showed up.”

“There was some lady singing and you were all just spaced the fuck out,” Ray said.

They looked at each other skeptically.

“There wasn’t any singing other than the song playing, Ray,” Gavin said.

“There definitely was,” Ryan said.

“Yeah, she took some guy into a back room and he was acting like he got hypnotized,” Ray said.

“Hypnotized?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, everyone was just standing around like you guys were. And Ryan was acting weird, too.”

“But you were fine?” Michael asked.

Ray shrugged. “I thought it might be something in the drinks.”

Jack frowned. “But Ryan didn’t -”

“Are you here about the siren?” someone asked. Ray spun around to track the soft, musical voice, and landed on a slight woman with glasses. She had some kind of accent, not British but something close.

“Siren?” Geoff asked. “What siren?”

“Oh!” the woman said, looking disappointed. “Er, I must have been mistaken, sorry about that. I just heard you talking, and assumed… well, it doesn’t matter.”

“No, wait,” Jack said. “We’re here looking into some disappearances related to the club. We thought it might be something supernatural.”

Her face brightened into a wide grin. “Oh, that’s great! I’m Caiti,” she said, sticking her hand out.

Jack shook it, smiling back. “Jack.”

“Are you Irish or something?” Michael asked.

She looked at him coolly. “I’m Australian,” she said, sounding slightly less friendly than she did just a few moments ago.

“Oh. Uh. Sorry.”

“Can you go back to the siren bit?” Geoff asked. “That seems pretty important.”

“Yeah, this whole club is a front for a siren,” Caiti explained. “A really nasty one. I thought the disappearances sounded like how one would operate, so I came in a few nights ago and saw her snatch someone right off the dance floor.”

“How did she do that?” Ray asked.

“Well, as you’ve probably noticed, a siren’s song is powerfully seductive and hypnotic. Anyone who feels attraction sees the most beautiful person they can imagine, and is pulled in and rendered helpless. With a base of operations like this, she’s got a pathetically easy supply of prey.”

“You know a lot about sirens,” Gavin remarked.

“Because I am one. Well, half, anyway,” she added when they took a panicked step backward. “I’m not about to start singing and kill you all.”

“That’s what she’s doing to those guys?” Ray asked. “She’s killing them?”

“More or less, yeah.”

“Why couldn’t she do jack shit to Ray?” Geoff asked. “He’s the only one who seems just fine, I’m calling bullshit.”

“He’s asexual,” Ryan said suddenly.

“What?”

“Really?” Gavin asked. “Is he right, Ray?”

Ray shrugged. “I guess. I never really worried about shit like that too much.”

“How did you even figure that out?” Geoff demanded.

“Well, Caiti said anyone who feels attraction,” he explained. “Someone who isn’t sexually attracted to anyone would be immune to a siren’s song.”

“Exactly,” Caiti said. “Which gives us an advantage.”

“Sounds like you have a plan,” Jack said.

“The surest way to kill a siren is to beat her in a singing contest,” Caiti said. “Which is basically impossible, so that’s no go.”

“Why even mention it, then?” Michael muttered.

“Our next best option is to completely drown her out,” she continued, ignoring Michael. “If no one can hear her singing, then she’s essentially powerless, and you can incapacitate her some other way.”

“Except whenever she starts singing, someone turns down the music,” Jack pointed out. “So we need to get to the DJ somehow.”

“I can do it,” Ray said. Six pairs of eyes turned on him. “Well, I _can_. I’m immune, right? I can get up there and blast the music.”

“That’s good in theory,” Caiti said. “In practice, it’s going to be harder than that. The siren’s song gives her total control over anyone under its spell, and everyone in here’s going to be her puppet. She’s going to try and stop you as soon as she realizes what you’re doing.”

“That’s what I have Ryan for.”

“Why Ryan?” Gavin asked.

“It only partially affects him,” Ray said.

“Really?” Caiti asked, looking surprised. “Why’s that?”

“Reasons,” Ryan said evasively. “And this isn’t the time to get into them.”

“No offense, but you’re all gonna be pretty much useless until the siren’s taken care of,” Ray said. “If Ryan keeps everyone away from me, I can get up on the stage and take over.”

“It’s a solid plan,” Jack said.

“I’ll go too,” Caiti offered.

“You just said she’s gonna try and attack people who fuck with her,” Ray said.

“I can handle myself, you know,” she told him, in a tone that clearly said not to argue with her.

“So how do we get the siren back out here?” Geoff asked. “She’s already got her boy toy for the night.”

“She normally takes two or more,” Caiti said. “If we wait, she should come back out before the night’s over. In the meantime, we just have fun and try not to act too suspicious.”

“So no annoying singing,” Michael said, pointing at Ray.

He raised his hand to his chest in mock offense. “I would _never_ ,” he said indignantly.

“Except you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No one gives a shit,” Geoff said.

“We should probably start getting closer to the stage now,” Ryan said. “It’ll be less walking when everyone’s entranced.”

“Yeah.” Ray started following Ryan back through the crowd.

“Hey,” Michael called after him. “Be careful.”

Ray smiled. “I will.”

He pushed through the crowd after Ryan, mumbling apologies. The music got progressively louder and more painful as they drew near the stage. The DJ had recovered just as well as everyone else, and was now playing “Sexyback” at top volume. Ray wished he had brought earplugs.

Then the DJ turned a dial and the music grew quieter. People glanced around in confusion until the siren started up her singing again, and then they went right back to staring at nothing.

Ray took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing,” he muttered. He started moving faster, shoving through the hypnotized clubgoers, and climbed up onto the stage. He looked around, trying to spot the siren, and -

There she was, near the bar. And she was approaching Michael. Ray grabbed at an abandoned glass on the stage, and threw it at her just as she beckoned at Michael. “HEY!” he yelled. She turned and fixed him with a venomous glare, and he faltered. Regathering himself, he yelled "Why don't you pick on someone who'll fight back?"

The siren turned away from Michael and took a step forward, her singing suddenly much more aggressive. A few of the people below broke out of the crowd and started climbing up to the stage. Ryan and Caiti pulled them away, and Caiti swung at a few of the others with what looked like a broken-off chair leg. “Whatever you’re going to do, do it quick!” she called up to Ray.

“Yeah,” Ray said. “Okay. Do it quick.” He ran for the DJ, who took a swing at him as soon as he got close. Ray dropped, feeling the fist _whoosh_ just above his head. “Holy _shit_.” He tried ducking around the DJ, who grabbed him and threw him across the stage.

He found it slightly disturbing that he was apparently fighting for his life to the sound of “Don’t Stop The Music”.

Ray stood and rushed the DJ again, achieving the same result. “Okay, new plan,” he muttered. “Ryan, help!” he yelled.

“Kind of busy _already helping you!_ ” Ryan shouted at the foot of the stage.

“Fine, be that way,” Ray sighed.

Ryan slammed a folding chair onto someone’s head and tossed the chair up to Ray. “There, happy?” he yelled.

“Absolutely ecstatic!” Ray scooped up the chair and held it out in front of him, sizing up the DJ. He charged forward, lifting the chair over his head. “Your taste in music sucks!” he screamed, bringing the chair down onto the DJ.

The DJ crumpled, and Ray had the stage mostly to himself - except for the throngs of people climbing up after him. He pulled out his phone with shaking fingers, frantically tapping at it as Youtube loaded.

“ _please don’t stop the, please don’t stop the -”_

Ray slammed his phone onto the dock and pressed play, turning every dial he could find.

The sounds of the synthesizer piano blared through the speakers, crackling with static as the drums led the way into the song. The clubgoers on the stage stopped, looking around in confusion.

Ray found the siren in the crowd, and she looked _furious._ He flipped her off with both hands as the chorus to the beloved classic “Never Gonna Give You Up” began. She ran at the stage, moving frighteningly fast. Ray picked up the chair again and swung again, and the siren went down about as gracefully as a sack of bricks.

He helped Ryan carry the unconscious siren down off the stage, and retrieved his phone from the dock when the song ended. They carried her back through the crowd to the others, whose expressions ranged from confused to angry to awed.

“You just Rickrolled an entire nightclub,” Michael said.

“And anyone outside within earshot,” Ray said.

“I can’t believe it.”

“You’re a fucking nerd,” Geoff said.

“Yep,” Ray agreed.

“So what do we do with the siren?” Gavin asked. “We can’t just leave her here to keep kidnapping people.”

“I’ll probably take her somewhere remote,” Caiti said. She had a busted lip and a bruise starting to form on her cheek. “She’ll have to find her prey the old-fashioned way from now on.”

“And what about the people she already kidnapped?” Jack asked.

“They should still be wherever she took them,” Caiti said. “Through that other door.”

“I’ll go check it out,” Ryan volunteered. “Ray, want to come with?”

“Yeah, sure.” Ray followed Ryan through the innocuous-looking door set into the wall. The hallway beyond was dimly lit and poorly cleaned, and it smelled _awful_. “I think I’m gonna vomit, it smells like Satan’s asshole in here,” he groaned, holding his nose.

“It doesn’t smell all that bad to me,” Ryan remarked.

“Well, your nose sucks.”

They descended a set of stairs, and Ryan pushed open another door. About twenty people were huddled inside: mostly men, a few women, all looking weak and scared.

“Are you all okay?” Ryan asked. They just stared at him wordlessly. “You can leave now, it’s okay.”

No one moved. “No, seriously,” Ray said. “Get out of here, it’s nasty.” He began pulling people to their feet, ushering them out of the room.

When the room was empty, Ryan turned to Ray. “So, of all the music you could have played, why Rick Astley?"

Ray shrugged. "Thought it would be funny, pretty much."

Ryan chuckled. "Well, it's good to know you're never going to give us up."

"Yeah, we're all in this, man."

"Never going to let us down, either." A slow grin crept across Ryan's face.

"Dude, no," Ray began.

"Never gonna run around and desert us."

"Ryan, you fuck."

Ryan laughed as Ray lunged forward to shove him, and fled up the stairs into the club proper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly not sure we're ever going to top this. It's pretty damn good imo. Next time, we'll have... shenanigans, most likely. There's almost always shenanigans.
> 
> \- Bookworm


End file.
